The Muse in the Attic
by abronzeflame
Summary: "Hush, little baby don't say a word. Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird, and if that mockingbird won't sing, Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring." A lullaby and an antique chest. Just what is the history of Bella's new house? Rated M for horror scenes.
1. Every End is a New Beginning

**Welcome to The Muse in the Attic.**

**For those of you who are not new to this story, you will notice some major edits in the first few chapters. The story remains the same, I just felt it was too expository and wanted to get to the point.  
**

**Endless gratitude to alonelily, who grants me her time, in spite of her chronic lack of it. Thanks also to my beech farquars KiyaRaven and miztrezboo, who without their shove, this story would still be a bunch of nonsense floating around in my head. **

**And now on with the show...**

**...**

**Every End is a New Beginning**

I met my husband at University where we were both took the same English Literature lecture. Embry had aspirations to be a novelist, whereas I was more focused on becoming an English teacher.

I had known within the first six months of being in relationship with Embry that he was my future. I had the silly daydreams that girls have about their wedding and their future children. Thankfully in mine though, there was no meringue inspired gown or ugly babies resembling Winston Churchill. No, just a simple no frills, but still lovely, wedding and normal looking babies.

We had married in Seattle while I was studying my Masters in Education. By this time Embry had finished his degree and was set to work on writing his first novel. We knew going into marriage at the young age of twenty-four and twenty-five respectively would not make things easy, but we were in love and had the help of our family and friends if need be. My dad had expressed to me when I began seeing Embry seriously that while he was not looking forward to the day when he would have to hand me over to another man, he couldn't have thought of one more suited to me. Looking back on that, I could only scoff, not that my father was necessarily wrong, but that Embry had played everyone for a fool.

Last year, I got the shock of my life. My husband, the man who I thought was my forever, asked for a divorce. When I recovered from my shock enough to ask why, he simply said he did not love me. I was devastated. He had never shown me anything but affection and told me he loved me often, we had even made love only two nights prior. I asked him to tell me how that was possible. The whole situation seemed absolutely absurd and if I hadn't had a sore ankle from where I nearly tripped over on my way to sit down to hear him try to explain himself, I could have sworn I was stuck in some horrible nightmare. All I could hear was "this cannot be happening" over and over again in my head; it was as if a record was stuck and couldn't change over to the next song.

None of it made sense. Embry had asked me for a divorce as though he was asking me to pass the salt. He sat there looking rather nonchalant causing my anger to only further escalate at his lack of compassion for me and how he was destroying me at that moment. I had given him every part of me; he had never lacked for love and friendship. I knew I wasn't a typical housewife, but Embry had never wanted one. He'd told me on many occasions he loved that I could, when needed, be something of a ball-breaker; that I had a unyielding attitude that almost never failed to get me what I wanted professionally.

Conversely, I knew I was something of pushover when it came to my marriage, or at least I had figured that out that I was after my divorce came through. While studying for my degree I held down a part-time job working in an office answering phones and performing other menial duties. It was tedious, incredibly monotonous and I don't think I would wish it on my worst enemy, but it did put food on the table and helped to pay the rent.

We both disliked living in Seattle and agreed to move back to Forks when I had finished my study. Seattle was a fine place in small doses, I just wasn't meant to live in a bustling metropolis long-term. Looking back, it was apparent that cracks were showing the first year into our marriage.

They say hindsight is 20/20 when given the opportunity to look back on things. It was clear to me now just how much Embry had changed from when we dating. It was put to me by one of my close friends and colleagues, Angela, that maybe he hadn't changed but had been trying to be someone he wasn't all along. The prospect of that scared the crap out of me. If that was true, then I had been deceived from day one. I resigned myself to the likelihood that I'd never know the truth. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know.

I had yet to shed myself of a few belongings of Embry's that he not taken with him when he left. I allowed myself to recall the fateful discovery that he wanted to end our marriage while I waited for him to answer the phone.

"_What the fuck Embry? How can you do this? You've never given any me indication __whatsoever that you felt this way and all of sudden you just decide it's over and don't even give me chance to do something, anything to make this better."_

_I could see he was running rebuttals over and over in his mind, but there was no way I was going to let him try to justify his actions. I was in control of this argument and there was no way I was letting up. I had things to get off my chest._

"_For the past four years I have done everything I could to make us happy. We knew going into this at our age that it be would be difficult, but we discussed it and you promised me that we would never let ourselves become lost to the responsibilities of married life. And here you are telling me you're done. Done. Just like that. I get no say. Well you know what, fuck you. I'm not about to let you do this to me and think it's okay!"_

_I had been yelling so much my throat was parched and I knew I wasn't going to get the answers I needed and deserved unless I calmed down long enough to allow him to speak. He went on to explain his first novel hadn't sold as well as was expected by his publisher and he had been growing increasingly annoyed that I was making more money. Embry, like many men was proud - sometimes to the point of stupidity - and while I could understand his sense of emasculation, his jealousy of my professional success did not justify asking for a divorce, especially when I had no forewarning._

Lost in the memory of the argument, I didn't hear the phone ring out. When I realized, I rang back and left an abrupt message telling him to collect his stuff before I threw it out.

I was proud of myself for not letting him walk all over me like I was doormat. Because I was a naturally quiet person I had a tendency to do just that.

The pain I felt after Embry left me was something of a blessing and a curse. It made it hard to get out of bed some mornings but it also fuelled my love of writing. I took great joy in it. It wasn't something I did professionally, more just a serious hobby.

It held me together after the divorce was finalized, and I came to rely on my notebooks. They held my inner-most thoughts and emotions. Even though I was young, I didn't know how to be alone and I hated that. I always thought of myself as confident and separate from my marriage, but when it came to an end, sometimes it felt as though I was, too.

I didn't socialize much outside of work but I was friendly with my colleagues, Angela and Jasper in particular. We would often eat our lunches together and they were very supportive of me when I told them of my divorce. I had been embarrassed about it, but they helped me see that it was not my fault in any way. They would often invite me out and even though I knew I should go, I just couldn't find the enough desire to.

**...**

During the divorce proceedings, we sold our marital home and I moved in with my dad. I couldn't have asked for a more devoted father than Charlie. I knew raising me alone was especially tough, given he had very little in the way of support to help him raise a little girl.

My mother Renee passed away not long after I was born from complications of childbirth. She got to nurse me, I have photos of that.

I knew early on that my mother had passed away shortly after giving birth to me, but it was not until I think I was ten that my dad sat me down and explained in better detail what had happened. It wasn't something he wanted to do, and once he elaborated I could understand why. However, it was necessary for him to tell me at some point. Renee passed away from severe hemorrhaging due to suffering pre-eclampsia during her pregnancy with me.

Renee had tried everything she could to secure my healthy entrance into the world, having been informed it was likely that I would not survive to term. It was always anticipated that I would be the one to not make it rather than my mother. Along with her obstetrician and recommended specialists, she visited psychics, witchdoctors, and palmists all with the hope they could tell her what she wanted to hear; that I would survive and she and my dad could take me home so we could be a happy and healthy family.

Apparently, it was after one ominous visit to a healer down on nearby Quileute reservation that she began having doubts about her own health, doubts she only voiced to Charlie, who persuaded her to not think such thoughts. He believed it to be nothing more than superstition, in spite of his close friendship with Billy, one of the elders.

Charlie didn't believe in superstitions or anything remotely other-worldly. He thought it tantamount to nonsense and never paid it any attention. But when my mother became fixated on it he became convinced that she was playing with fire, and tempting fate in all the wrong ways. He has never gotten past his anger with her for dying. He believed it has something to do with her becoming obsessed with "that superstitious nonsense" as he put it.

**...**

Growing up in Forks afforded me the ability to ride over to the manor on weekends or after school. I was always so excited to visit, I could hardly make the wheels on my Malvern Star turn fast enough for the the speed I was attempting to peddle them. The rainbow streamers attached to my handlebars would fly out besides my hands, making me giggle at the furious kaleidoscope. The dense lining of Western Hemlocks beside the road to his house provided both beautiful scenery and a thick green blanket from the sometimes harsh winds.

Granddad lived on the outskirts of town in the most majestic manor my young eyes had ever seen. The house sat on a half acreage of land, surrounded by forestation, with access to a trail that led to a picturesque stream. The manor was by far one of, if not the largest house in the nearby area. It comprised of three stories, the first two made up of living areas and bedrooms, with the third being the attic.

One of my fondest memories being the ride I would make up the driveway. It was not a particularly long driveway, so I could see him waiting for me on the porch once I arrived at the gate. I think he was lonely a lot of time, because when I got there he would smile so large it looked as though his weary face couldn't contain the joy it held. On my regular weekend visits he would take me inside and we'd sit in the sun room out by the backyard where he would read me the most amazing stories. I had always been an avid reader, but it was something I had to enjoy alone because Charlie was a simple man, with simple pleasures. Books were not something he found to be of much use to him personally, but he always encouraged my interests nonetheless. So, when Caius introduced me to classics like _Anna Karenina_ and _Of Mice and Men_ I was instantly enamored. He also fostered my writing. I often found I was more inspired at the manor than anywhere else. Looking back, I think it was the peaceful surroundings there that motivated my writing poetry. It was always so quiet and I never had any difficulty finding something to write about – a problem I always encountered anywhere else.

Granddad liked to find different ways to entertain me on my visits. Sometimes he would let me take reign of the kitchen and make him afternoon tea. I always made his favorites: scones and gingerbread men. He would sometimes offer his help, but in the end I had to shoo him away before the room ended up looking like a flour bomb had gone off in it. He really had no aptitude for cooking at all which was one of the things I loved most about him. I was sure he had some difficulty at times appearing jovial around me. I knew he carried a great deal of sadness with him and, at times, I think my presence was bittersweet but he was always happy to have me there, more than ready to indulge me with silly games and other fun activities; anything to make me laugh and bring some life back to him.

One of his favorite things was to tell me stories, not from my favorite books, but make-believe; fantasy and ghost stories in particular. He would often perch me on his knee and tell me tales about the people who use to live there. His favorite one was about a captain who he claimed built the house. He told me that the entire family of sons, daughters and their children lived there, but after the captain passed away, the matriarch was so bereft so couldn't live without her husband. And so, she moved herself into the attic where she never emerged from again, eventually passing away from a broken heart. He loved to tell me how you could sometimes hear her rocking chair creaking on the old uneven floorboards and, sometimes on a cloudy night, you could see her walking along with widow's walk waiting for her husband to return. I never believed any of the stories he told me, but they were so imaginative that I never forgot them and while they would scare me, they intrigued me nonetheless.

When I spoke to my father of the interesting tales granddad told me he would say it all a bunch of baloney and to pay it no heed. He told me that my over-imaginative granddad was just making up stories to thrill me.

When I arrived one morning at my granddad's I found the front door open and a little note stuck to it telling me to come up to attic. I was instantly afraid, so much so I had to hang onto the bannister to keep me upright. This was very strange behavior for my granddad because he knew how much I didn't like surprises. On many occasions he tried to playfully surprise me, but every time ended up with me in tears. It was because of this that I couldn't understand what he was up to.

As I tentatively approached the stairwell to the attic, I took my time to gather my thoughts. I was sure whatever reason my granddad wanted me up there for was perfectly safe and logical. He probably just needed my help in bringing something down. I continued slowly taking one step at a time, trying in vain to control the hammering of my nervous heart. I held onto the bannister as if my life depended on it. I didn't think even my walk down the aisle took me as long as this one did.

Reaching the final few steps I called out to granddad but heard nothing. Calling again, I heard a creaking sound, and with my heart in my throat I entered the room but couldn't immediately see him as there was very little natural light in the room - the only artificial light had to be turned on by a cord hanging from the ceiling that I couldn't reach. I called out to granddad again and this time I finally heard him call back to me. Not fully expecting him to answer, I screamed and in turn frightened him, causing him to lose his balance and fall over. Running over to where he was, I helped him up and he was immediately apologetic having forgotten in one of his now frequently occurring memory lapses how terrified I was of this room. He held me, giving me as much comfort in his gentle embrace as he could. When I finally calmed down he put me back on the floor and told me he wanted to show me something very important to him.

We walked over to a chest, one I'd never seen before, and I was instantly curious why something so beautiful was being kept hidden away in the attic. It was quite large and covered in the most remarkable carvings that seemed to be thematic; as if telling a story. He explained to me that he and my grandmother found the chest here when they moved in. They both loved it and tried to move it downstairs but it was so heavy they gave up. On closer inspection they later discovered the chest was literally immovable, having been somehow permanently attached to the floorboards.

I asked granddad if I could open it and he immediately told me no. He practically yelled at me, though he apologized straight after, realizing that I would naturally be curious. He explained to me that for as long as he had lived there he had never once opened it. When he found it after moving in he discovered some papers lying atop the chest forbidding anyone from opening it. He told me that he tried to open it, disregarding the letter thinking it was from a previous owner who simply couldn't remove the chest and didn't want anyone snooping through their belongings until they found a way to collect it. He, however, did go onto say that no-one ever did come for it. Granddad told me he made many attempts over the years to open it again but was never able to, saying it was as though it had been fused shut for all of time. He told me that he had never been able to find the owners, or any information about where the chest came from or who made it. He wanted me to know of its existence in the hope maybe I could one day find out more of its history.

I told my dad, hoping he knew something of it, but he said he'd never heard of it and that maybe granddad was telling one of his fanciful stories again. When I insisted he wasn't and I had actually seen it with my own two eyes he was curious but told me it was probably nothing important. He told me that even though it may have been pretty and quite possibly an antique, that it was better left alone, especially if it belonged to someone else. I made him promise me that he would do all he could in his position as a police chief to track down the owners or some information on it, and even though he told me he would, I couldn't help but think he was trying to mollify me, knowing in all likelihood he couldn't do anything.

After granddad showed it to me the first time, I never did see it again. And, being terrified of the room it was in I put the chest out of my mind for a long time after that. I had no reason to think that it wouldn't there any more because granddad would've told me. Also, with it being seemingly impossible to move I couldn't see how something like that could be removed without a great deal of trouble being caused.

As much as I wanted to discern that it remained where I last saw it, I knew I had to find a way to overcome my intense fear of the attic. Just this simple thought was almost as terrifying as the room itself. Therapists say the best way to overcome a fear is to face it head-on but I just couldn't, not without having a crippling anxiety attack.

**...**

When granddad passed away a few months ago, he bequeathed to me his manor. I had known for many years that that was his intent - he told me when I was quite young, probably too young, and at the time I couldn't understand or appreciate the gravity of his decision, but I have never forgotten the day he told me. I'd not long arrived on a Saturday morning to find him sitting in a far corner of the sitting room. It was not a room he frequented, at least not that I knew of. I was immediately concerned but knew if I rushed in I'd likely startle him. Taking a deep breath to steady myself I knocked on the wall panel beside the door jamb to alert him to my presence. When he looked up I saw a look on his face that I had never seen... he was deathly pale and he looked exhausted.

I walked over to him and he patted his knee, his cue for me to take a seat there, something I would normally have done without hesitation. However, with him looking so broken I just couldn't so I took a seat on the floor as close to him as I could. He gave me a look of understanding but belying that I saw resignation haunting his eyes. When he spoke there was something in his voice that worried me. He went on to tell me that he had made plans to leave the manor to me when he was no longer with us. He explained that neither he nor my grandmother wanted to see the house sold off to someone who may not appreciate it as much as he knew I would one day.

**...**

I couldn't wait to move into my new house. It needed some work, which I had been slowly doing while staying with Charlie. I gave the exterior a fresh coat of paint and I had been spending my weekends there working in the garden. It was such a relaxing place to be. I knew I was going to love living there. It was sure to have such a vibrant history and the thought of researching it made me smile, thinking about who had lived there prior to my granddad. I just knew that some amazing things had to have happened there.

I'd had a recent burst of inspiration since I began renovations. I was not sure what it was about the house that left me feeling rejuvenated when I wrote, but it was something I hoped to harness and maybe, just maybe, the nagging voice at the back of my mind telling me to publish my words could be sated.

My divorce had nearly broken me but I had a strong feeling that life was about to present me with a welcome change. The new house would be the turning point for me. I was ready to move on.

**...**

**If you enjoyed this chapter or have any thoughts to share with me please review. Thank you for reading.  
**


	2. Obsidian

**To my previewers, a world of gratitude to you for talking me off the ledge with this one. A world of gratitude to my beta alonelily.  
**

**Lyrical content belongs to their respective owners**

**Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, however this plot is mine.  
**

**...**

**Obsidian**

_You must remember this_  
_A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh._  
_The fundamental things apply_

_As time goes by._

**...**_  
_

Music, I can hear it. I know this piece. Swing.

It wants to be a part of me... or does it want me to be a part of it?

**...**

A dead cell. No battery life.

Blackness. It's all around me. It wants to consume me.

**...**

The current, strong. So strong.

**...**

_Moonlight and love songs. Never out of date. Hearts full of passion. Jealousy and hate._

The voices – they're back again. What do they want? Why me? What do they want from me?

**...**

Not here, not here, not here.

**...**

Pretty lady, so pretty.

No wait! Stop, look. Turn around!

Gone, she's gone. I couldn't stop her.

She's cold now.

Cold, so cold. The black is speaking to me. It wants me. Why?

**...**

It's so beautiful here. The flowers are so pretty. _Forget-me-not_.

NO! Leave this place, leave me alone. You can't have her, _she's _mine.

I can still hear you. I know you're there. I can _feel _you.

**...**

_It's still the same old story. A fight for love and glory._

Argh, whoever is playing that music would you turn it off! My ears are ringing.

**...**

Apple pie, I can smell apple pie. Where is that coming from... the girl. _She's _back again. _She's _here. I know it.

**...**

_That painting is staring at me. I feel naked. Where is my shirt and my shoes? Why do I look so filthy?_

I'm not like this. This is not me. Who did this to me. Where are you?

**...**

Spinning, it's all spinning. I don't know what's going on. Can't move. Must stay here.

_Creaking... who is that? Someone is there. They found me._

**...**_  
_

No it's not. Shut up, you don't know what you're talking about.

The black is safe. The black... it's a void... it wants me here. It _needs _me.

There, _she's _here. Who is _she, _though? Her hair, it's so pretty. What is _she _doing? No, stay here. Don't leave. Help!

_She's _gone. I'm alone.

**...**

Shadows. _My _shadow? How can I have a a shadow in the dark corner of this room?

"_It is the East, and Juliet is the Sun."_

This house, it is malevolent? It thirsts for me.

**...**

Books, I need my books. The answers are there, I know it. I just need to get to them. But how?

Maybe _she _can get my books. Maybe _she _is here to help me.

**...**

This is not me.

This is not me.

**...**

Help.

_And man must have his mate. That no one can deny._

**...**

**Okay, so that was a bit different huh? **

**No doubt you're unsure about where the hell this is going following such an unconventional chapter... stay with me. There is madness to my method.  
**

**Make me a happy girl and leave me some love, or questions, confusion. Whatever you've got, throw it at me.**


	3. And So It Begins

**My gratitude to the usual suspects. alonelily, I can't thank you enough. **

**Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, however the plot is all mine. I'm just having fun messing with her beloved characters and fucking with your heads.**

**...**

**And So it Begins**

"Just put that box down there, thanks Jasper," I said referring to one of the many boxes that we were lugging in from the hired van I was using to move my furniture and other belongings into the house. I was so thankful to have the help of Jasper, his wife Alice and my other colleague, Angela, in addition to my dad to help me move in over the weekend. I would have never have gotten this done in that time without them, but I could at least rest easy knowing I would get most of the heavy work done. The first floor had been completely renovated and I was currently working on the second floor. My granddad certainly hadn't neglected the Manor, but much had been needed to be done to liven the house up a little. The state he had left it in reflected his regular somber mood, no doubt alluding to his ever-present sadness over the loss of my grandmother.

I settled myself to work in the kitchen with the help of Alice and Angela, unpacking boxes of kitchen utensils and crockery. Not that I had much as it was just me living in this huge house, but I did enjoy a small collection of both everyday crockery and finer plates for when I was entertaining - a rarity in itself, but still something I did on occasion. Alice was flitting about, wreaking a organized havoc upon the room. She had a crazy energy that was both endearing and annoying at the same time, but she was incredibly helpful and had been ever so gracious in offering to help me with the move, even though I really didn't know her from more than the odd run-in at school when she was visiting Jasper.

Angela, on the other hand, was the exact opposite of Alice. While she was still as conscientious in helping me getting everything organized, she was quiet in doing so. Had I not seen her in the room with me, I wouldn't have known she was even there. She just got down to work and got the job done. She was much like myself at times. We were both quiet, shy people, and that's probably why we understood each other so well. Alice was my complete opposite, and I supposed was the reason we tended to get along as well as we did. I still didn't know her all that well, but I found her pleasant to be around. She never had a bad word to say about anyone; she epitomized positivity and exuberance.

Jasper was helping my father bring in my heavy furniture. I had told them I was more than happy to hire removalists, but they both argued that I'd spent more than enough money renovating the house, and they both wanted to help in whatever way they could. I was rather concerned about their backs, but both of them being the stubborn, chivalrous men they were told me I was being overly worried about nothing. I hoped they were right.

I could hear them out in the living area, working on arranging my furniture as I'd explained I wanted it. I could hear Alice barking directions at them to move the couch a little to left. I snickered at that. I really couldn't have cared less whether it was a few inches either side of where I asked for it to go, but I'd already had 'discussions' with her that morning about whether glasses belonged open side up or down in the cupboard and I knew debating with her was futile.

Angela and I continued working away in the kitchen. My fridge and other large appliances had been brought in already, and I was currently working on sorting out my cutlery while Angela worked on unpacking the bags of groceries I had brought over. Charlie had insisted on ordering in tonight once all the heavy furniture had been arranged. I was happy to cook up something, but everyone kicked up a fuss, saying that after a hard day of lifting and shifting they all just wanted to sit down in front of the large screen and stuff themselves silly on greasy diner food. I wasn't crazy about it, but for the sake of keeping the peace, I agreed.

It was nearly six p.m by the time all the furniture had been moved in. My bed and mattress had been moved into my bedroom, and all that was left to do was put my clothes away in the wardrobe, and arrange my ensuite bathroom to my liking. I'd never had an ensuite before, and I was looking forward to enjoying that and not having to fight for access to the the shower or mirror with an irritable-in-the-morning husband. In fact, I was looking forward to living on my own full-stop. It wasn't something I'd ever really done. I'd moved straight from home into my university dorm, and from there into a home with Embry. So living alone was both an exciting and daunting concept, but one I was ready to grab by the reins and not let go of.

I'd spent the prior weekend redecorating the kitchen and giving it a new coat of paint. Gone was the horrible powder-blue walls and horrendous laminate bench tops. In their place were satin finished ecru colored cupboards, eggshell walls, and polished floorboards. I'd spent a good part of the previous Sunday lacquering the boards and was impressed with the finished product.

I snickered at a thought that had just crept into my head when Angela interrupted me.

"What's got you giggling like a little girl?"

I hadn't realized I'd been that obvious. I quickly pondered whether to fabricate something or to tell the truth.

I settled on the latter.

"Oh, I was looking at the floorboards and wondering how often I might re-enact Tom Cruise's _Risky Business_ slide." Angela's jaw dropped open. "Don't look so shocked Ang, I can and do have fun. I'm just not super crazy. But since I'll be living here alone, I'll need to keep myself occupied and entertained, so why shouldn't I let my hair down and be a little silly from time to time? And besides, what's the point of having polished floorboards if you're not going to go for a slide in your socks and Ray-Bans?"

Angela looked at me like I was an alien from outer space. Had I really been that boring and stale? I hoped not, but either way, things were going to change.

I walked over to my iHome and searched for a decent play list, settling on one containing my favorite eighties music. I turned it up and the opening chords to 'Romeo and Juliet' by Dire Straits poured out of the speakers. I immediately felt calm amidst the maelstrom of boxes and bubble wrap. I'd never been able to handle clutter, and music was one thing, besides my writing, that had the instantaneous ability to calm me. This particular song had always been a favorite of mine and I knew every word without fault. Feeling comfortable with just Angela in the room, I began softly singing along.

_A love-struck Romeo sings the streets a serenade  
Laying everybody low with a love song that he made.  
Finds a streetlight, steps out of the shade  
Says something like, "You and me, babe, how about it?"_

_Juliet says, "Hey, it's Romeo, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"  
He's underneath the window, she's singing, "Hey la, my boyfriend's back.  
You shouldn't come around here singing up to people like that...  
Anyway, what you gonna do about it?"_

_Juliet, the dice was loaded from the start_

_And I bet when you exploded into my heart  
And I forget I forget the movie song.  
When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet?_

I began to sing a little louder, feeling more comfortable in my surroundings. I was unpacking a box of kitchen utensils - wooden spoons and spatulas - when suddenly the music changed. It morphed into a song that sounded vaguely familiar. I couldn't place it as it sounded distant, and I shook my head in confusion because I knew that it wasn't on my playlist. In fact, I was pretty damn sure it wasn't on my iPod at all.

I continued unpacking thinking nothing of it when a few moments later I heard it again. My hand froze mid air, white knuckling the utensil in my hand as the familiar voice caused a shiver to rip through me, and every hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.

_Moonlight and love songs  
Never out of date.  
Hearts full of passion  
Jealousy and hate.  
Woman needs man  
And man must have his mate  
That no one can deny._

I turned around to Angela and saw her gently sway her hips.

"Angela, did you change the song? I don't mind, but this old stuff is hardly conducive to unpacking and cleaning."

Angela gave me a strange look. "What are you talking about Bella? I haven't changed anything. That Tears For Fears song just finished. I don't know what else you have on this list but none of it sounds particularly old to me."

"But I heard it, Ang. It was that old song from that movie with whatshisname. Dammit, I've forgotten. You know the one with the famous piano player? Uh...Sam, I think."

"You mean Casablanca?"

"Yes, that's the one. You seriously can't hear it? 'Moonlight and love songs, never out of date', or something like that?"

"I swear, Bella, I didn't hear it, but I can ask the guys in other room if they heard it."

"NO!" I cried, feeling embarrassed and slightly weird. Angela looked a little hurt. "I'm sorry Ang, I didn't mean to yell. I'm just positive I heard it. I don't know. I must have been imagining it."

"Don't worry about it, Bella. I'm sure it's just all the stress from moving, and everything that's happened over the past few months catching up with you. Really, don't worry about it. Besides, that's not a bad song to have stuck in your head. There are far worse ones out there than that."

I laughed and tried to ignore the slight tremor of fear I felt.

"You're right, Ang. Okay, now where were we?"

We continued putting away the last few remaining items in the kitchen, and then moved to my bedroom located on the first floor. I had yet to make my bed and sort out my bathroom, and knowing how tired I was, I needed to get that situation under control before I collapsed in a heap.

I heard a soft pattering of feet prancing up the stairs, and turned to see Alice with a handful of clothes, and a small box containing some more bathroom necessities. She appeared as ramped up as she had first thing this morning. I had no idea how anyone could maintain such a level of energy. It was both unbelievable and refreshing to see that, no matter what, she was in a perpetually lively mood, and without a hair out of place.

"I come bearing gifts," she giggled in her sweet voice.

Was there anything about this girl that was a shade of gray?

"Thank you so much, Alice, and thank you also for helping me out this weekend. I can't tell you how much it means to me to have an extra set of hands."

"Oh, it's nothing, Bella. I go where Jas goes. And besides, I'm always happy to help out a friend. I hope you don't mind that I think of you as a friend. I know we don't each other well, but I hope that after you're all settled in we can get to know each other better, and maybe have lunch or something. My treat."

"Alice, that's really thoughtful, but please, let me cook something for you instead. I could show you around the place once everything is unpacked and I'm settled. Maybe we could go out another time?"

"Sure, Bella, but trust me - I _will _hold you to that."

"I'm sure you will. You've been a huge help, but really Alice, your energy levels... You never seem to stop. Don't ever slow down and just let things happen as they may?"

"Oh, all the time, B - you don't mind if I call you that, do you? I always let things happen as they're meant to. I'm a huge believer in fate, or destiny, or whatever you want to call it. But that probably wasn't what you meant. Sorry, I tend to get a little sidetracked with my thoughts sometimes. My brain always goes off on strange tangents. So, where were we?"

"That's okay. I think everyone does that from time to time. Um, can you help me by taking those things into the bathroom while Ang and I finish making the bed? I kind of need somewhere to sleep tonight."

As much as I was enjoying spending the day with my friends, I couldn't deny I was absolutely knackered, and the prospect of collapsing in my own bed right now was entirely too tempting. Unfortunately, I still had too much to do right now and sleep would just have to wait. I wish I'd remembered just how exhausting moving house can be. Yes, I had done it before, but in a way, it's just like childbirth - once the birthing aspect is over you conveniently forget the pain and just enjoy the end result.

By the time I looked at the clock again it was approaching eight p.m. We'd finished for the most part, and there was nothing left to be done that couldn't wait until the next weekend - or maybe one night after work if I had the necessary energy. I decided we simply had to call it a night and arrange some dinner. Given the hour, and just how tired and sore I was, I caved to the mounting pressure of my friends and ordered take-out, settling on three pizzas to share.

When dinner was finally delivered forty-five minutes later, we were beyond famished. I went into the kitchen to collect some plates and glasses, and was immediately frozen in my place. The most delicious aroma of apple pie was wafting through the room, and it was so strong that it seemed as though it was being cooked right under my nose. The tart scent of the Granny Smith apples was utterly mouthwatering. I had no idea where it was coming from as the manor was not near any other homes, and of course it couldn't be coming from my kitchen - I hadn't even used the cook-top yet.

I was interrupted from my culinary musings when Dad walked into the room, startling me.

"Bella, what's taking so long? We're starving out here. It's feeding time at the zoo - come on."

"Huh? Oh yeah, sorry, Dad. I guess I was just taken aback by that amazing apple smell."

"Apples? What are you talking about, Bella? The only thing I can smell is the most deliciously oily pizza this side of New York going cold out there." He grabbed the crockery off me with a slight air of impatience. "Here, let me help with that. If I had have known you'd take this long I would've offered to get the plates myself."

Charlie hightailed it out of the room and I was left standing there, stunned.

What was going on with me?

Twice in one day I'd had the most visceral sensory experiences, but everyone else around me seemed completely oblivious. I had to have been be exhausted, because it just wasn't like me at all.

Leaving the room with the glasses in my hand, I went back to the dining room and sat down to eat.

**...**

It was nearly ten p.m. when everyone finally left, leaving me alone in my new house.

No, this was more than a house - this was my home.

Angela and Alice had helped me get the plates and glasses cleaned up before they left, so I wasn't left with anything to do but take myself up to bed and finally get some sleep.

I walked into my bathroom and took stock of my reflection. I looked more than a little exhausted, but underneath the bags that had formed from so little sleep this past weekend, I could see an excitement in my eyes. I had known for some time that this was the right thing for me, but now that I had actually moved in, the reality of it hit me and I felt more at ease and happy than I had for as long as I could remember.

I took my hair down from the messy up-do I had thrown it in this morning, and ran my brush through it. I had always loved my hair, and had received many compliments on it's length and luster - friends and colleagues effectively banning me from cutting it, telling me that my dark brown locks were too beautiful to ruin. Running my fingers through it, I could smell the jasmine and ylang ylang float around me, bringing a smile to my face.

I left the bathroom and walked over to the bed, quickly pulling on my pajamas; a little yellow top with gray pants, and climbing into bed. I would have normally read for a while, but after such an draining day I just wanted to sleep. I was hoping to get some writing done tomorrow, even though I should probably spend the day getting the rest of the house organized. Writing relaxed me, and I really needed to unwind before I went back to work.

Fluffing the pillows and reaching over to turn out the light, I settled in and hoped for peaceful, uninterrupted sleep.

**...**

The early morning chirping of the birds outside my window woke me from what had been one of the most restful slumbers I could remember. I awoke feeling entirely refreshed and happy.

Rising from my bed I walked over the window and was greeted with a family of violet-green swallows, nesting in the birdhouse my Granddad had built and hung from the old English Oak tree that was reputedly over one hundred and fifty years old. It was for this reason that I had always been enamored with this particular tree, and became fascinated with the mini lectures Granddad gave me on its feathered inhabitants. Bird-watching had been a favorite past time of his, and he spent some time teaching me about the species native to the area. I quickly became adept at being able to identify the birds that frequently visited both this tree, and the bird bath that he had installed in the garden.

Having quickly showered and made my bed, I descended to the kitchen to make breakfast, settling on vanilla yogurt with walnuts & fresh strawberries. As a bonus little treat, I made myself some buttermilk waffles - not something I would normally do, but I felt my good mood warranted the splurge.

I spent the morning continuing my work in the garden, planting some of my favorite flowers. I wanted to bring a flourish of color to the property - something it had been lacking in recent years. I didn't have a problem getting my hands dirty in the soil; it was actually a quite an enjoyable tactile experience. I had taken cuttings of forget-me-nots from my dad's garden and also bought some seedlings from a nearby nursery. I had extensive plans for my little oasis, hoping to make it a place where I could not only relax, but also find inspiration to write.

By mid-afternoon the sky was covered in a blanket of slate and aubergine hues, hinting at a possible storm later in the evening. I cleaned up and went inside, needing a snack after having been out in the garden for most of the day.

With nothing to do between now and dinner, I decided to continue unpacking. I had some boxes of books and my collection of antique ornaments that I wanted to shelve. I had ordered two new, rather large, ornate mahogany bookcases in which to house my vast anthology of literary works. My collection ranged from Shakespeare and the Brontë sisters, right through to the modern day literature of Jodi Picoult. And even though they were less in numbers, it was my books of poetry that I valued above all else. I had been collecting them from early childhood and hadn't yet discarded one.

Digging through the boxes, I began pulling out each precious poetry tome and familiarized myself with them again. It hadn't been long that they had been packed away - a month at most - but I loved each of these books. They gave me a sense of self, and I always felt calmer when holding any of them. Simply put, they felt like home. The last book that I put on the shelf was _The Poetry of Robert Frost: The Collected Poems, Complete and Unabridged. _He was by far my favorite poet - his direct yet subtle tones about the rural American landscape always having a stronger connection with me than many other poets' works.

Opening up the book, I came across the poem that resonated with me more than any other.

_Nature's first green is gold,_

_Her hardest hue to hold._

_Her early leaf's a flower;_

_But only for an hour._

_Then leaf subsides to leaf._

_So Eden sank to grief,_

_So dawn goes down to day,_

_Nothing gold can stay._

Feeling the swell of inspiration I so desperately needed wash over me, I went upstairs to my bedroom to retrieve my laptop and notebook. Noting the swallows in the tree once again reinforced my enthusiasm, and I knew that I desperately needed to purge some deep seated emotions onto paper. I didn't ever write specifically about my emotions, but I found whenever I wrote, any feelings I needed to expel dissipated, leaving me feeling lighter and with a sense of freedom.

I wanted to write outside, but with the sky still presenting a stormy front I thought it best to stay indoors.

I set up my laptop and notebook on the coffee table in front of my armchair, and went into the kitchen to prepare a snack of crackers and cheese, and a cup of tea. I always found a cup of Earl Grey soothed me and helped with the writing process.

Tucking my feet under myself and wrapping a crocheted blanket around my upper body, I began writing the first thoughts that came to mind. It might not have been a conventional process - but I found it was the best way for me to get into the flow. I always began my writing sessions by transcribing in my notebook, and then when I was happy with what I had, I transferred it to the laptop.

As I sipped my tea, I began to feel more confident in what I was writing. It was a feeling I didn't get often, but when it occurred I always made the most of it.

I'd been writing for a few hours when a feeling, akin to what I imagine experiencing a g-force would feel like, struck me. I felt a buzz tear through my body, my mind a flurry of images and emotions. The words flowed out of me like never before. It was as if a dam had broken, and I couldn't stop the the force of my mind overpowering my hand and writing like I had never done so. The speed that my hand was moving across the page was so profound, I could barely understand what I was inscribing. The words began to blur on the paper in front of me. My hand was aching from the tenacious grip that I was encasing my pen in. I felt as though I wasn't in control of my mind, or my body.

I felt possessed.

It was both terrifying and oddly calming.

I'd never felt such a catharsis before - I had needed this like the air I breathed, the water I drank. I had so many grievances, and I was in desperate need of an outlet. My life had become something of a stranger to me. I didn't know who I was, or what I had become. I still felt like the same confident me, but everything I had known had been taken from me; like a rug being pulled out from under me.

Who had I become?

Looking at the clock on my laptop, I noted it was approaching two-thirty in the morning. I was shocked. I never stayed up this late. I was a strict, regimented, 'by the book' woman. Always to bed by midnight, and always awake to start the day by seven-thirty the following morning. I had no idea what had happened to me. It was as though the past five hours had flashed by me in a matter of moments.

Feeling emotionally spent and physically exhausted, I began to pack up my scant belongings and ascended to the bathroom adjoining my bedroom. Given the ridiculous hour, I bypassed my nightly routine and settled for only brushing my teeth and running a comb through my hair. As I continued preparing for bed, I was overcome by an unsettling emotion; a feeling of peace, but also one of claustrophobia. This felt like a rather dichotomizing emotion, given that I was now living in a spacious, old manor-style home. I rationalized that homes such as this tended to create such eerie feelings, so I disregarded my unease and got myself comfortable, fluffing my pillows and pulling down my sheets.

Climbing into bed, I fell into a peaceful slumber reasonably quickly.

Some time later I awoke to something... maybe a dream or a sound - I wasn't quite sure.

I looked at the clock. It was four in the morning.

I mentally berated myself, knowing I was going to be incapable of a productive day when I properly awoke.

Sitting up, I heard a strange creaking sound coming from above me. It immediately piqued my curiosity, but I quashed that by telling myself that I lived in a old house, and the sound was probably nothing more than a common structural anomaly.

Just as I was about to lie down again, I heard the sound again - this time, however, I got the distinct feeling it had moved from it's original location. Having not had the opportunity to thoroughly check the house out since I had taken ownership, I decided to go up to the next floor and try to ascertain where the sound was coming from.

I had just moved in; the last thing I needed was to have to call in the exterminators to clear out a rat's nest. The thought gave me the heebie-jeebies. I was not a stereotypical girly-girl, but the prospect of rats living in my attic still frightened the living shit out of me.

I slowly ascended the stairs toward the attic.

I dreaded the attic. I don't know why.

I didn't really believe that it was haunted, or any of the other things my late grandfather told me about it when I was younger. I knew that it was all for fun on his part. He was just playing his role as my Granddad.

Still, thoughts of him and his scary stories flooded my mind as I approached the attic door. Standing in front of it, I heard another creaking noise. Deciding that I was not going to get any sleep until I at least poked my head in and tried to discover the cause, I cautiously turned the knob and opened the door.

I entered the room warily, and my skin broke out in goosebumps. One might argue it was the drafty room, but I firmly believe it was my intense fear of the attic physically manifesting in the form of strange little ridges all over my body.

Taking a deep breath and trying my hardest to control the need to turn around and backtrack out of there quick-smart, I looked up and saw something I hadn't seen for years - not since I was maybe nine or ten.

My granddad's personal collection of paintings.

He'd been quite the art connoisseur during his lifetime, accruing many fine works. I didn't realize he'd kept them here, having not seen them for so many years.

I was reaching for the first painting and slowly removing the white sheet draped across it when I heard it again. It was always the same noise. Something akin to a floorboard creaking, which was not an uncommon sound given the house was at least seventy years old. However this time, there was a peculiar sound accompanying it. I couldn't place what it sounded like but as I turned to my right and took a few steps forward, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the far corner, I discovered something that damn near gave me a heart attack.

A man, half naked, unkempt and babbling, was huddled in the corner.

I should have been scared, terrified even, but I found myself tentatively approaching him. I stopped when I heard the floor creak beneath my feet and I looked up to see him staring at me. I couldn't make out his features, but there was something about him that felt familiar, yet oddly distant.

Just as I opened my mouth to ask... I'm not even sure what, he was suddenly on his feet. Even from a distance of ten, maybe twelve feet away, it was clear he towered over me. His naked chest was toned and a little muscular. My eyes continued their appraisal of him, and as they reached the lower half of his body, I noted the desperately neglected state of his clothing. His legs were covered by what appeared to be formerly black business pants, however they were now thread-bare in places, revealing his broken and dirty skin. His feet bore laced up dress shoes that were most likely leather, but scuffed all around the toe and down the sides. They were so worn that they were falling apart.

I heard a deep breath shudder from within him, and my eyes shot back up to meet his gaze. I couldn't make out the details of his face through the darkness, but it was clear he had a sharp, angular jawline with high cheekbones. His hair gave the impression that it had committed anarchy against its owner. The furious follicles were sticking up in every direction, leaves and small twigs clinging to strands as though he had just crawled through a prickle bush. It seemed as though taming it would be near impossible without taking the clippers to it.

Despite the fact he was staring at me I didn't feel exposed. His eyes gave off a feeling of reticence and sanctuary. I had never before felt such a feeling of intense contradiction from someone's eyes.

I was deciding on what would be the best move to make, so as not to further startle him, when he gasped. He took a staggered breath and then spoke.

"You, you're _her,_" he said, pointing at me with a shaking hand. His voice was soft and unassuming, but there was a surety to his claim.

I should have wanted to leave the room immediately and call my father, or someone as equally capable of protecting me from this complete stranger who had no business squatting in my house. Instead, I was frozen in place, unable to make a move for the door at the other end of room.

"I thought they lied to me. I thought you didn't exist," he continued in the same gentle tone, but with each word his voice became increasingly confident.

His words, though coherent, made no sense at all.

What did he mean _I _am _her_?

It suddenly occurred to me that he was probably deranged and quite possibly dangerous. The realization shocked my body out of its inaction, and I slowly took a step backwards, careful not to startle him and possibly set off goodness knows what kind of reaction in him. Without warning, he fell back to floor and grabbed at his knees, rolling over onto his side into the fetal position.

"No, they can't... they wouldn't. The colors, they're wrong. It's wrong. Lies! The path is cobbled... long way to go. Long way to go. They wanted me here... I _need _to be here. The road is long... Nineteen forty-one. Twenty and six..."

I wasn't sure what to do.

On one hand it was clear his man needed psychiatric help, and that was certainly not something I could provide, but on the other I couldn't help but ache for his plight. I had a basic understanding of the treatment some people receive in mental institutions, and the thought of having him sent there damn near ripped me apart. I couldn't understand why. I should want to have this person removed from my home immediately, not just for my own safety... but for his. Instead, I found myself slowly walking his direction.

The closer I got to him, the more sure I felt of this man's need for a human embrace and comfort. I wanted to slap myself silly. If Charlie knew I was behaving this way he'd be furious, and would probably doubt my sanity, not to mention what he'd think of the mumbling man on the floor.

I knelt in front of him and wracked my brain trying to think of something I could offer to show him I wasn't going to hurt him. I slowly turned my palms outward and raised them in front of me as a sign of peace. Ever so gently, I outstretched my arm towards his curled up leg. My hand hovered above his knee, and I looked him in the eye to try and ascertain if my next move was to be welcomed. While he didn't give a definite okay to the gesture, I felt it was accepted.

Softly placing my hand on his knee, I began making soothing caresses of the area, trying to show him he was not in any danger. He looked so terribly agitated and fearful, and I gave him a small smile, hoping to calm his nerves. A shiver ripped through his body and goosebumps rose over his chest and arms, and I suddenly realized just how cold it was in this attic. I began to shiver myself and removed my hands from his knees so I could wrap my arms around myself. Wanting to at least keep this man as comfortable as I could until I decided what to do, I thought it best to get him some blankets. I whispered softly that I would be right back and stood up to make my way to fetch what I needed.

I glanced back to check on him before I left. He was clearly in some discomfort, rocking on his side and mumbling something continuously that I couldn't make sense of.

Leaving the room and rushing downstairs to find some blankets, I entered my bedroom and went straight for the closet. I pulled out two of the fleeciest blankets I could find, and grabbed a spare pillow from my bed. I headed back upstairs, stopping momentarily to take some deep breaths, trying to control the ferocity of my pounding heart.

Climbing the stairs slowly, I palmed the wall to maintain my upright stance as my legs felt they could give way at any moment.

When I entered the attic once again, I unfolded the blankets and shook them out gently as I approached the corner where I'd left him, careful not to move too quickly in an effort not to startle him.

"I've brought you back some blankets, and also a pillow. I'm not sure how much good they'll do in this cold, but if you wrap them around twice you should be okay for the night."

I knelt down to place the items on the floor in front of him

I was immediately struck by the engulfing stillness surrounding me.

I looked over to the the corner where I had left him, and then frantically searched the rest of the attic while my heart pounded in disbelief and fear.

This was impossible. There was absolutely no way he could have left without me seeing him, or hearing him.

And yet, he was gone.

**...  
**

**I would love to hear your thoughts, whether you loved it, or had an issue with. Whatever you opinion, please share it with me. Every single one puts a smile on my face and makes the writing process so much more enjoyable. Theories are also more than welcome.**


	4. The Key To It All?

**I'm continually amazed at the wonderful reviews I'm receiving. I can't thank each and every one of you enough for taking the time to leave me your thoughts and support. It is so very appreciated. **

**Innumerable thanks to my beta alonelily. She's been a huge help to me this chapter. Thank you so much, bb. I am endlessly appreciative of your hard work. **

**Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, however this plot is mine.  
**

...

**The Key To It All?**

"Wake... Mr Cullen... wake up... Edward."

The voice sounded stronger with each word, as though it were reaching the end of a long tunnel and coming out into the open. I wanted to respond but I felt heavy, tied down to my spot and unable to make a simple gesture to confirm that I had heard whoever it was.

_THUMP__!_

_What was that?_

"Mr Cullen, I want you in my office in exactly five minutes and not a second later. Expect dire consequences if you are not on time," I tried moving once again but everything still felt wrong. I couldn't find another word for it. My mouth was drier than a desert, my legs felt as though they were stuck in concrete; I had no control over my body.

"Alright Edward, come on, let's get you up. " _I k__now that voice, so familiar. _"Judging by how the boss man threw that book down on your desk, I'd say he is fuming. Come on, you've got to wake up."

"Huh... ," '_Huh'. Is that all you can say? What is going on here? I am a highly educated man, working for one of the most prestigious scientific research companies in America. What is wrong with me?_

"Edward, it's Emmett. Come on, you have to wake up, now. You have exactly four minutes to get your ass into the boss' office or there's going to be hell to pay. Here, drink this. Rosie, just came back from getting coffee for the office. This should wake you right up." The voice called to me, bringing me out of the fog my mind was consumed by. I rubbed my eyes with the heel of hands as I tried to adjust to the glare of the lighting beaming down on me.

"Ugh," _What is this shit?_

"Fuck, man. What happened? No, don't answer that now. Just drink up and I'll help you get to the boss man's office," I slowly raised the cup to my mouth hesitating but taking another gentle sip, the bitterness of the beverage immediately sending a buzz through my chest to my brain. I still didn't feel anywhere close to human yet, but it was a start. I wasn't a coffee drinker at all, and the taste remained in my mouth leaving a unpleasant film, making me want to wash my mouth out with battery acid to get rid of it. However, it did the job in waking me up from whatever the hell it was that I had just experienced, so I guess I had to be thankful for that.

I pushed the chair out from my desk to stand up but my legs wouldn't move. I fell forward, the inertia of my body making it too difficult to get my limbs to function.

"Okay, there Edward. Let me give you a hand. What the hell were you up to last night? Did you go out partying til sun-up and bag some hotties that fucked you til you couldn't stand anymore?"

"Shut up Emmett, you know that's more your style and not mine."

_Well at least my voice is working now. _Emmett frowned at me, making me wonder what I'd said.

"I'm going to ignore you said that on account that you're fucked up at the moment. Damn it Edward, you know I'm with Rosie now. Look, just get into that office, say all the right things, don't piss off the boss man and come back out here when you're done. If you're feeling up to it you can come out to dinner with Rosie and me." I gave Emmett a slight pat on his shoulder to thank him then turned around and knocked softly on my boss' door.

"Enter," the dissonant voice bellowed, causing my heart rate to increase and sheen of sweat to break out on my forehead and palms.

"You asked to see m...," my boss was standing by the large window overlooking the Alamodome. Bosses always had the best views. Not that I was jealous of his specifically but anything had to better than the San Antonio concrete jungle that was mine. Maybe I should request a move to the other side of the office, at least then I'd get a nice view of the River Walk.

"Take a seat Mr Cullen," I sluggishly walked over to the seat on the opposite side of the desk and sat down, awaiting what appeared to be a tongue lashing heading my way. "I've not brought you in here to berate you over your behavior today, although I must admit I am surprised Edward. I know you've had a lot of work on your plate lately, but if you needed a hand with it I would've preferred you talk to me, rather than deal with it on your own." He turned away from the window and walked over to his desk taking a seat in his seemingly rather comfortable leather office chair. "This ties into the reason I asked to see you. We've been contracted by a private firm to to look into something they've requested I keep top secret for the time being. Unfortunately, at this stage I can't tell you any more than that, other than to say I'll be bringing in reinforcements to help with the added workload you'll be under. This project doesn't concern you primarily but I'll be asking you to oversee the work of the some of the other employees who will be involved in this. Tomorrow I'll have you meet with some of the potential assistants I'm considering hiring, and you can get back to me with those you feel will be a good fit for the way you run things. If you have any questions, now would be a good time to ask them."

I ran my fingers through my hair, encountering a few knots - no doubt caused by my siesta, or whatever the hell that was earlier. "Sir, if I may ask, who will be involved in this project?"

Jenks sighed and rubbed his eyes. He appeared stressed and exhausted. "Rosalie Hale and Emmett McCarty, at this stage. We might be including a couple of others in the coming weeks but it will all depend on the progress of Rose and Emmett. Is there anything else Edward?"

"Well I just want to apologize for falling asleep. I don't know what came over me and I'll make sure it never happens again. Excuses of a growing workload do not cut it for me. I love my job here and I've been wanting more responsibility for some time. I realize you must be annoyed with me."

Jenks stared at me for a long moment, before picking up his coffee and taking a long sip, "Edward, you're right that I'm not pleased with your behavior, but as you know I consider you one of my best employees. You have an exemplary record; not a single blemish in your fours years with us. I'm not about to rake you over the coals for this. Just keep in mind that regardless, I'm not amused and I don't want to see it happen again. Now, I have things that I need to attend to, you may leave," I stood slowly and turned for the exit, as I reached the door I looked back at Jenks. He was buried in books and paperwork.

Whatever this project was it was a big deal.

**...**

I walked back to my office feeling calmer but with my curiosity piqued. A new project would be wonderful for the corporation, but I couldn't help feeling left out of whatever it was. I knew I brought significant talent to _Jenks Science and Research_, and so to be omitted was quite a surprise. I wondered if when Emmett and Rosalie were further informed if they might indulge me in what they knew. We were going out for dinner later that night, and we hardly ever didn't talk shop.

I walked past Emmett's office and saw him on the phone, I gave him a brief wave I continued walking up the hallway. I had almost reached my office two doors down when I heard Emmett's booming voice, "Hey Edward, get your ass in here man." In spite of Emmett's obvious intelligence, he never was able to maintain proper decorum in the office. I turned around a went back. "Just hold up a minute Edward, I won't be long."

_He was still on the phone when he yelled to down the hall. Jesus, does this man ever learn?_

I took a seat opposite his desk while waiting for him to wrap up his call. When he finally finished he looked at me with his signature grin, his dimples deeper than craters on the moon, "So, did Jenks cut off your nads and turn you into a screaming lady-boy?" I couldn't help but pshaw at his less than tactful way of asking if I had been disciplined.

"No Emmett, he did not 'cut off my nads". He was actually not angry at all. He did say he was concerned, and that I should talk to him if I was overworked but that's not the point. He wanted to discuss getting me a couple of assistants to help when my workload increases further because I'll be taking over some of your responsibilities. Care to explain?

For the first time ever Emmett seemed nervous. "Ah, look Edward, obviously Jenks has told you about the project but unfortunately I can't tell you any more than he told you. Rosie and I are under strict instructions to keep our mouths shut. And besides, neither of us know all that much in the first place, just that in our role as molecular physicists we're supposedly vital to this project," he air quoted as he said the word 'vital', alluding that he wasn't sure himself about what was meant by that.

Emmett sat back in his chair appearing nonchalant about the topic of discussion. To me it was something serious as it affected us all, yet Emmett didn't seem as concerned. He was a lighthearted, jovial man who didn't take life too seriously; he had a carpe diem approach to life that I found at times refreshing, though like me he was just as passionate about his work. To see him act so cavalier about this was perplexing. He pushed his chair back out from under his desk a little way and then loosened his tie. He seemed to getting more agitated and fidgety. His eyes darted around the room, unable to focus on anything for long, then he cleared his throat; a strangling sound.

"So Edward, dinner tonight with the missus and me, you on?" Emmett was too damn confident for his own good. "First Emmett, Rosalie is not your missus, you haven't even asked her yet."

He looked at me with a knowing glint in his eye, "All in good time Edward, all in good time. I have a plan and I'm just waiting for my Rosie to be ripe for the picking."

He may have had a plan but Rosalie was not one for games. She had a direct no bullshit approach to everything and everyone around her. If she thought for one second you were trying to pull the wool over her eyes she would blacklist you permanently, and she offered no second chances... well with the exception of Emmett probably. For some reason it was as if she were the Eskimo and Emmett was the ice salesman... and he never seemed to having any trouble offloading it.

"Dinner Edward, are we on or off?" I had gotten sidetracked and completely forgot the purpose of the conversation.

"Ah, yeah sure. Just let me know when and where."

I wasn't in the mood for going out. I was still feeling tired and in a mental fog from whatever the hell had happened earlier, but Emmett and Rosalie were two of my closest friends and their company would be a million times better than either going home to an empty house or even more likely staying late at the office. My only company there would've been a pile of paperwork and the janitor Peter - dinner with Emmett and Rosalie was far preferable.

I left Emmett with plans to meet him outside at around six p.m. Finally making it back to my office uninterrupted, I sat down at my desk and straightened the mess I had created for myself from my burgeoning workload.

_I would definitely need those assistants._

The book that Jenks tossed on my desk to startle me from my comatose state had yet to be returned to the bookcase. I disliked having disorder around me. The sight of a mess seemed to manifest physically inside of me, preventing myself from forming clear, educated theorems on the empirical data I was presented with on a daily basis. I picked up the book and returned it to its place on the bookshelf. I took a moment to look at my collection of certificates that I had hung proudly beside it. I had put a lot of work into my education and even more to get to where I was today.

It had been a long-held dream of mine to work for a company as prestigious as _Jenks Science and Research_, and having studied for six long years to achieve my goal of earning my Master's in Psychology with a minor in Parapsychology from University of California, Berkeley, I received a phone call from Jenks himself offering me a position with his company. It was by far one of the greatest moments of my life. I had known from an early age that this was to be my vocation. The science of the paranormal always intensely mystified me and it was my mission to learn everything I could about it. I didn't subscribe to the hocus-pocus nonsense that others did, I took the subject seriously and treated it with the respect I felt it deserved. I always believed there was a logical answer to everything and I wanted to prove it. I read everything I could get my hands on, from the downright skeptical, to the most off-the-wall wives tales. However, I spent most of time reading and analyzing the empirical data forwarded to from other departments within the office and also many reputable colleagues, both psychologists and other parapsychologists, though they were few as my industry was not renowned as a 'genuine' science by some in the field.

I couldn't pinpoint an exact reason why I became interested in this discipline, it certainly had nothing to do with living in a haunted house or anything remotely similar. It was always just a feeling I had that this was what I needed to do. My parents supported me from the very beginning, though I think they would've preferred I take up something a little more 'normal', though they've never said it as such and I know they never will. And in spite of their possible misgivings, I know they're thankful that I'm happy in my career and highly successful at what I do.

**...**

I'd been ass-deep in paperwork all afternoon. I had given myself two weeks worth of work in advance to read through in order to keep my mind busy, when my phone alerted me that it was ten minutes to six. It was fast approaching the end of the day and I was dying for a meal. I hadn't eaten since... I couldn't even remember when I had last eaten. My memory had been shot since I came to with my face stuck to my desk earlier this morning. I got my things together and shut down my laptop, putting it in the leather bag bought for me for my last birthday. I headed toward the door and turned out the light, glad to be through another hectic day. I met Emmett and Rosalie in front of the office as planned and they told me to follow them to _Fleming's Prime Steakhouse and Wine Bar_, a favorite of ours. We would often meet there after work or on a weekend, just to relax and enjoy each others company... something we didn't get to do enough of lately with all of our workloads increasing.

After we arrived and had placed our orders we chatted about menial things, general day-to-day stuff until the waitress arrived with our wine. I had just taken a sip of my red when Emmett asked "So Edward, what was the deal with the catnap at work today?" His grin informed me his was ribbing me, but it didn't ease the feeling of of queasiness at the memory.

"I don't know what to tell you Emmett. I wish I could be more forthcoming with you but I honestly don't know what happened. I can't remember anything after arriving at work this morning until I was woken up."

Rosalie looked at me with a quizzical expression. "Have you perhaps started some kind of medication or something else that might be interfering with you in some other chemical capacity?"

I glared at her, stunned that she would say that. "No, Rose. I am not on any medication and I'm definitely not doing drugs if that's what you're implying. I can't believe you would ask me that." I couldn't finish my thought before Emmett interrupted me.

"Okay, hold up there Edward, I'm sure she meant no harm by it, but you have to admit it's a fair question given your out of character behavior today. You've never been one to doze off for even a few moments let alone however long you were out this morning. And judging by how sluggish you were, I'd say it was a couple of hours at least. How no one caught you during that time is beyond me."

I had to admit, he did have a very good point because I couldn't remember anything from when I arrived at work that morning until I was unceremoniously brought back to consciousness by the slamming of that tome on my desk. I wasn't honestly able to put a time on how long I'd been out, and even though I had been in my own office with the door closed it was odd that no one had requested to see me for some reason or another.

After our meals were brought to our table, we ate in a comfortable silence. I certainly didn't want to revisit the discussion, and I was hoping Emmett and Rosalie felt the same. We remained seated at our table after our plates had been cleared discussing nothing of great importance but not wanting to leave the restaurant with things left unsaid... even though it was going to be that way no matter what. We filed out of the bar just after nine p.m and left to go our separate ways. We lived reasonably close to each other; Emmett and Rose in the King William neighborhood, and I in an apartment downtown.

As I walked to my car I reached into my pocket to remove my wallet. I opened it in search for the ticket I needed in order to leave the parking garage. Unable to locate it I routed around in my pocket to see if it had fallen out. I found the ticket at the bottom and pulled it out, when something else slipped out, hitting the ground with a metallic clang. I knelt down in order to see it better as the dim lighting of the garage obscured it in shadows. It was an old, brass skeleton key. I picked it up and palmed it, looking at the detail around the top. There were markings etched deeply in the shaft, they appeared to be numbers. I couldn't quite make them all out but it looked as though there was a one and a four, possibly a nine but that number was far too scratched up. I had no idea how this came to be in my pocket, I didn't own anything a key like this would open. I considered leaving the key behind; it wasn't mine I had no need for it, but for some strange reason I felt compelled to keep it. It felt right in my hand, like it belonged there. I got back into my car and put it into reverse and left to return to my apartment.

During the entire drive home, my mind kept going over how this key came to be in my possession. It completely baffled me, and for something as small and as harmless as a key, I felt nervous having it my possession.

It had been the strangest of days; my entire body was aching and my mind was reeling from the bizarre events. I decided to take a long hot shower to wash away the days peculiarities. I wasn't one to take showers in the evening but today I needed one. I removed my suit and hung it on a hanger separate from my others for it be dry cleaned. By the time I returned to the bathroom, the steaming hot water had fogged up the mirrors and left a light condensation on the walls. I stepped under the spray and felt an intense wash of calm race over my muscles. I had no need to wash my hair, so I just stood there and let the water bead over my skin, allowing everything in my mind to wash down the drain. I began to prune up after a good ten minutes and stepped out the shower feeling a slight head rush. I wrapped a fleecy towel around my midsection and walked back to my bedroom, to retrieve some boxers. I usually wore more than that to bed, but I was so exhausted that I didn't feel like bothering with my usual pre-bed routine. Instead, I pulled back the covers, falling into the cool of my sheets, and settled myself in, not caring about my normal traditions of reading or some light meditation.

I lay there, trying desperately to allow my mind to shut off so I could get some sleep, but the events of the day were running through my mind like some warped vinyl record. I couldn't get comfortable, I tossed and turned unable to find a position I could find rest in. I was still disturbed by everything that had happened, and even though Jenks was not annoyed with me, I was. It just wasn't like me, and no matter how many times I tried to convince myself otherwise, something about it just didn't sit right. I hadn't been tired the day before, I always slept well, I was healthy. There were simply no outward signs that something like this should happen. Nothing about it made any sense. I was intelligent, educated and successful, but no matter how many times I thought through everything, nothing added up.

I continued lying there, mulling over all the possibilities my mind could conjure before finally succumbing to sleep.

**...**

_Her_

She's here

I've seen this place before

It's so cramped and cold

Where am I?

**...**

The alarm sounded at its usual time of fifteen past seven. The sun was just beginning to pour through the tiny gaps between my shutters. I wasn't used to my room appearing light in the morning, having not long left the cold months behind. I moved myself up the length of the bed to sit up and rub my eyes. I felt extraordinarily tired and heavy. It was a struggle to move my legs. They felt weighted down by some unseen force. When I finally got myself into an upright position, I was lightheaded; the room was kilter. Everything around me appeared obscured, like I was looking through a glass. I couldn't find my bearings.

I took a hold of my left leg and swung it over the edge of the bed, followed by my right. I placed the palm of my hand of the edge of my bedside table and pushed myself into a standing position. I immediately felt faint; the blood rushing to my head. I took some deep breaths to center myself and began walking slowly, toward the bathroom, all the while remaining in contact with the wall. When I entered, I reached into the shower and turned on the cold, leaving the hot tap off. Bracing myself against the towel rack, I removed my boxers and stepped into the shower.

I was hit with the biting chill of the water. It took me by surprise, jolting me awake. The moment the frigid drops hit my skin, a series of disconnected images flashed through my mind: a woman I'd never seen, a dark and dusty room. The pungent odor of mildew of the strange room overtook me, and I momentarily lost my footing, almost slipping on the wet shower surface. I had no idea what was going on. I righted myself, again needing to place my palm against the wet tile wall to remain upright. The images didn't stop. I felt out of control of my mind. What was happening to me? The images continued to flicker like the pulsing flickering of strobe lights thrashing around a nightclub dance floor. And as quickly as it began, it stopped. I was close to heaving, the episode making me feel ill with uncertainly about what was happening to me. My teeth started to chatter, and I had to take large gasps of air to get the oxygen into my shocked lungs. I began to feel the ability to move again come over me and I stepped further into the spray. I turned the hot water on and let the heat work its way over my skin, doing what it could to calm my internal storm.

I quickly but steadily ran through my shower routine, giving myself a quick lather with the body wash before I got out. I felt awake and more energized, but the images continued to plague me as I got ready for work, playing through in my mind on a continuous loop. It all seemed strangely familiar... safe, but that feeling of safety only further exacerbated my anxiety.

I left for work and tried to put the morning's events out of my mind for the drive there. I had been so distracted that I didn't have time to prepare breakfast, so I made a quick detour and bought a tea and a breakfast muffin. I pulled into the underground parking garage at the office and steeled myself before exiting my car. I had to remain in control of myself today and not allow anything like yesterday to happen again.

I met Emmett in the foyer waiting for the elevator up to the seventh floor where our office was located. I wanted to raise the subject of this morning with him, but felt hesitant to do so. He was my closest friend, but something about what had been happening to me concerned me enough to remain silent on the issue until I could do some quiet research into what might be going on. He asked me if I was feeling better this morning. I nodded and tried to appear as normal as I could but I don't think I convinced him. He made a joke about staying off the alcohol and late nights before telling me he'd see me around before walking into his office and closing the door behind him.

I was beginning to feel the onset of paranoia. Everything was becoming stranger by the minute, and now the one person I knew I could rely on, just looked at me as though he didn't believe me (not that he should, I was being evasive) and then shut the door on me. Emmett had never done that before. Ironically, he had a 'my door is always open' policy.

I continued down the hallway to my office and entered, putting my briefcase on my desk. I removed my laptop, and turned it on. I hadn't checked my email after I left the previous night so I wasn't surprised to find that I had a number of new messages to read and sort through. The most important one was a memo from Jenks informing me that the files for the potential new assistants had been left on my desk and I was requested to go through them before meeting with the applicants later that day. I normally would have found this to be incredibly boring and highly unnecessary, but I gladly saw the job as an opportunity to keep my mind busy.

After a few hours of reading prospective employee files, I put aside four that seemed to hold some potential. I hoped to talk to these applicants and find one or two that I meshed well with. Alistair and Makenna were both local and had just finished their mutual degrees in psychology at the University of Texas. Charlotte and Riley were both from out of state and each had impressive backgrounds as assistants to highly respected parapsychologists.

After completing this task my mind involuntarily returned to this morning's events. I had been entertaining the idea of speaking to Emmett about it, and knew I couldn't hold off any longer. I had to talk to someone and it had to be someone I trusted. I got up from my desk and walked down to Emmett's office.

"Emmett, do you have a few moments?" He was reading some papers. It was obvious he wasn't free to talk, but I had to clear the air between us. I just couldn't purge the images from my mind. I needed some perspective, a second opinion; someone to tell me I wasn't going mad.

"Ah, yeah okay sure man, come in, just let me finish up these last few lines and I'll be with you... okay, what's going on Edward, and don't say nothing, cause it's damn well obvious that's bullshit. Something is weighing on your mind, I can tell."

I sighed and took and seat, slumping a little at my defeatist attitude.

"I don't even know where to start."

"Well I hate to be the one to state the freaking obvious, well actually no I don't, but the beginning is as good a place as any." Trust Emmett to try and make light of the situation.

"It's just not as easy as that this time Emmett. I don't even know where or what the beginning is."

"Does this have something to do with your little power nap yesterday?"

"Emmett this isn't funny, but yeah, I just don't know what happened. I've gone over and over it so many times, it makes even less sense now than it did then, and that's saying something because it never made a modicum of sense ever." I was near to pulling my hair out. Just sitting here relaying it in conversation, my heart rate spiked, and walls began to feel as though they were closing in on me. I was a fucking wreck.

"Okay, first of all calm down and breathe. Now just tell me what's on your mind. Don't worry about how it sounds, just get it off your chest."

I deliberately inhaled deeply to calm myself as much as I could and then began to explain what had happened.

"Well I woke up this morning and my entire body wouldn't move to begin with, and I don't just mean I was exhausted, even though I felt it. My legs and arms were like dead weights. I physically had to drag myself into a sitting position and then throw my legs over the edge just to stand," I look up at Emmett and he encouraged me to continue.

"When I finally made it to the shower, I had these... I don't know... these images flash through my mind. But not just random ones. I can't describe it Emmett. It was like I was there, really physically there."

"What do you mean 'there'? Where?"

"I don't know. It was dark and dusty. I remember I felt terrified. Alone. Deserted. I think I was having some kind of breakdown. And then _she _was there."

Emmett held both of his hands up; an action to slow down.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa... she? Who is she?"

"That's the other thing. I have no idea. I've never seen her before. But even then, I felt like I should know her. She was strangely... I don't know... familiar?" I looked at Emmett and noticed he had a deep frown line etched on his forehead.

"None of this is making any sense, Edward. Are you sure you're not imagining this? Maybe you fell out of bed and hit your head?"

I got up from the desk and started pacing the length of Emmett's office.

"Damn it Emmett, this is not a fucking joke. I'm being serious. Jeez, why do think I am here, talking to you and practically admitting that I'm losing it? I know this is crazy Emmett. I know it, but that doesn't mean it's not real to me and I don't know why that is. Damn it!"

"Okay Edward, just sit back on the chair and calm down."

He was right of course, getting all worked up was not going to help. I needed to get control of myself. I sat back down and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry Emmett, but can you see why this is worrying me. People don't just hallucinate a room they've never seen or a woman they've never met. I feel like I'm losing my mind," I felt my eyes well up at a stray tear fall down the contour of my cheek.

"Maybe you're just stressed? Stress can cause hallucinations, make you see a whole lot of weird stuff that isn't there."

"I'm well aware of that Emmett, I have a Master's in Psychology. But that's not all," I put my hand into my pocket and fingered the brass key. "I found something last night, something that I've never seen. A key, and I have no idea how I found it... well actually that's the other thing, I didn't find it. It was on me.

Emmett shook his head appearing confused by what I was saying.

"What do you mean it was on you?"

I continued rubbing the key between my fingers unsure of whether to show Emmett. Something about revealing it to him felt wrong. I decided to keep it in my pocket for now. "I mean it was in my pocket. I found it there last night as I got in the car after dinner. I have no idea how it got there, or why I have it. I've never seen it before. And before you ask, no I have nothing that it will open."

"You're sure you've never seen it before? You had some wine last night, are you sure you really saw it?" He shrugged his shoulders appearing to not understand the gravity of what this meant.

"Yes, I'm absolutely positive, and besides, I'm not talking about a normal key. This is one of those old vintage style ones; a brass skeleton key, with the fancy detailing. I don't own anything a key like that would open, so why would I have one in my pocket?"

"I don't know Edward. I'm not sure what I can say, do you want to talk to Rosie? Maybe just flesh it out with a chick. You know what they're like, they can talk about about problems and stuff. It might help."

"Yeah, maybe. I'll think about it and let you know. Thanks Emmett," I left his office and walked back to mine, feeling a little better having told him about the hallucinations but overall more confused than ever. I was glad I hadn't shown him the key. I knew he wouldn't take it seriously as I was. He listened and I know he was paying attention but it was obvious he thought I was imagining it all.

**...**

After I got back to my office I kept myself busy. I read the latest departmental reports but my fingers kept finding their way back to my pocket, like some overpowering magnetic pull. I took the key out and placed it in my drawer underneath some papers, hoping that would sufficiently distract me. It worked for all of five minutes before I found myself gazing fleetingly at the drawer before realizing what I was doing then tearing my eyes away.

Why couldn't I get the damn thing out my head? It was nothing. Just a stupid key.

I couldn't keep it in my pocket without it burning a damn hole in it and now it was tempting me from the inside of a drawer. I flung it open, not caring if I did any damage and took the key out. I walked over to my filing cabinet and unlocked the bottom tray. I put the key in the far back corner and slammed the drawer shut, locking it and putting its key in the bookcase.

_I had to get out of here for a while before I went certifiably insane._

I walked past Emmett's office to inform him I was heading out, but he wasn't there. I continued into the foyer to see if either he or Rosalie were around, but no one was. The entire place was deserted.

_This day just couldn't get any weirder._

I didn't care for this anymore. I had had enough. I walked out and didn't care which direction I went. I just needed to get some air and maybe something to eat. I walked along the River Walk, stopping after a few moments to buy a salad sandwich and a bottle of water. I continued walking and eating, not caring how far I went. It was relaxing to be out of the confining space of my office. I was beginning to feel slightly less on edge and the prospect of returning to work wasn't so daunting. I headed back, knowing I'd been well over my scheduled break.

**...**

I entered the elevator and pressed the button for the seventh floor. When the doors opened, the office still appeared to be far too quiet for this time of day. I could hear the faint noise of the photocopier so it was clear someone was around. I walked past Emmett's office. The door was now shut, so either he was in there and didn't want to be disturbed, or he'd left - something he didn't usually do without letting me know. It was odd, but I thought nothing more of it. I walked up to my own office and entered heading straight for my desk and sat down.

I didn't see it immediately. Only after I shifted a few papers around did the little envelope make its presence known. I picked it up and surveyed the writing on it.

Edward Cullen

HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL

I flipped it over and carefully opened it. There was a single sheet of paper inside, folded carefully and precisely. I removed it and unfolded it, taking a moment to make sense of the words staring back at me:

The Philadelphia Project

_USS Eldridge_, 1943

Use this information wisely. Do not tell anyone. It may be the key as to what is happening to you.

**...**

**Again, I say dun dun dun! I'm not going to say much here, I shall leave it up to you to make your own determinations. **

**Reviews of all shapes and sizes motivate and encourage me. I'd love to hear from you.**


	5. Hush: Of Mockingbirds and Diamonds

**It's been a few weeks, but I'm happy to be back writing and have managed to get this to you earlier than I had planned. The reviews that I received over the holiday break were amazing and so humbling. I thank you all.**

**Smooshy hugs to KiyaRaven for her awesome previewing and my beta alonelily, whose dedication overwhelms me and I'm thankful to have her on board.**

**Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, however the plot is mine.**

**...**

**Hush: Of Mockingbirds and Diamonds.**

**Bella**

He was gone.

I spun around, dropping the blankets, and looked about to see if he had moved to another corner, but he hadn't. He just wasn't there.

But he had to be!

There was only one exit to the attic and I had just returned from going to get him something to keep him warm, and he definitely had not followed me. I would've heard him. I started to walk over to the opposite side of the room to make sure he hadn't moved to another corner, feeling a multitude of emotions coursing through my body. I was confused and anxious. How could a man just disappear into thin air? I saw him... I touched him. I _know _he was there. He had to be, I just had to find him.

I walked as quietly as possible along the uneven wooden floor, doing my best to see where I was going in the muted light of the room. Every few steps the boards would creak, startling me. From the corner of my eye, I could see the paintings leaning against the outside wall, indicating that I was in the middle of the room. As I continued toward the back of the attic, I grew more and more wary of my foot placement. The last thing I wanted to do was further frighten this man. He was obviously unwell and suffering from some kind of trauma. My nerves overtook me, every pore fraught with tension and a newfound sense of dread. At one point, I had to brace myself against the antique chest just to remain upright. I felt weak, and suddenly much colder than I had been, a mass of shivers ripping through my body. The closer I got, the more my feelings intensified, until a distinct cloying feeling settled itself in the pit of my stomach.

_He really wasn't here_.

Nothing about this made sense. I went back over the last half an hour, trying to scour my mind for even the smallest detail that might give me some idea of what was going on.

I didn't know what to do. Should I call the police to let them know I'd seen a stranger in my house, but that like Batman, he'd disappeared in the middle of the night? They'd no doubt laugh at me and think me as crazy as the man I was calling about. I sat on the chest, taking in slow, steady breaths to alleviate the ongoing waves of nausea that continued to torment the pit of my stomach. The room grew colder by the minute and I started to shiver with no means of keeping warm; the blankets I had brought up still on the other side of the room where I had dropped them out of surprise.

I crossed my arms over my myself, rubbing them in an attempt to warm my body, but nothing seemed to work. My exhalations were clearly visible in the frigid night air and a shiver ripped down my spine, creating goosebumps across my entire body. I had to get out of this uninsulated room and back to my bedroom, but the thought that the strange unwell man might actually be downstairs concerned me. Something about him being up here in _this _room, huddled and half naked in the corner with me standing over him, gave me a sense of power, and with it, a feeling of safety. But the idea of him downstairs somewhere, in the large expanse of my house, left me with a feeling of apprehension. I didn't know how I was going to leave this room and yet I had to.

Standing up as gently and quietly as I could, I made my way over to where I had unceremoniously dropped the blankets. If the man was somewhere in the house, the last thing I wanted was to alert him to my movement. After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the fleecy throws and knelt down to pick them up. I wrapped one around my shoulders and immediately felt comforted by the encompassing material.

My breathing intensified as I approached the door that lead to the rest of the house. I knew going downstairs could pose a risk, but there was no way I could remain in this attic until morning. I was just too cold...and not to mention, extremely anxious. I'd always believed there was something wrong with this room and that feeling had just been proven.

I took the stairs slowly, again making sure to remain as quiet as possible. Upon reaching the last few steps, the door to the first floor came into view, and I startled at what I saw. It was closed. I was positive I had left it open earlier when I returned upstairs with the blankets. My heart began pounding furiously and a sweat broke out on my palms. Ever so slowly I reached out and closed my hand around the doorknob. It was cold to the touch. I gripped it, watching as my knuckles whitened with tension, and slowly turned it open. The door made an audible sound as the old hinges were forced into action. I knew the door was going to continue groaning if I opened it inch by inch, so like ripping off a band-aid to spare the pain, I swung it back quickly, careful to not let it slam into the wall. I took a step and peered around the corner.

The hallway was empty. He wasn't there.

I felt a sense of relief and my shoulders and neck relaxed from their tense position. I didn't know whether I should feel relieved that he wasn't there. The larger part of me felt this man wasn't a danger, but the part of my brain that controlled logic was warning me to be wary. I stepped out into the hallway and walked over to the spare bedrooms adjacent to my own. After opening the doors to each, it became obvious he was in neither of them. I checked my bedroom more thoroughly, even lying down on the floor to make sure he was not under my bed, but all I saw were my suitcase and a hat box.

Despite knowing it wasn't one of my brightest ideas, part of me just wanted to give up and go to bed. I was physically exhausted, but my mind was so worked up I wasn't sure sleep was even a possibility. I walked over to my small bookcase and removed a copy of _Shakespeare's Complete Works_ in hardcover. If push came to shove, I could always hurl it at someone, or try to knock them out with the heavy tome. Arming myself with my makeshift weapon, I left my bedroom and descended downstairs.

I walked over to the front door and checked and triple-checked all the locks. One of them was usually a little sticky, which didn't make opening the door always easy or quiet. It didn't appear that the door had been opened because the dead bolt would likely not have locked without making some noise. I didn't check outside, or even open the front door, nor was I about to. That was just inviting trouble if ever there was any, and I had seen enough B-grade horror movies to know what not to do.

I walked through the living area over to the dining room. The best thing about my open floor plan downstairs was that it didn't take but a moment to scan the entirety of the the space. Again, the man was nowhere to found.

Maybe my granddad had been right? Maybe his stories about ghosts were true after all?

No, I didn't really believe that. I must have been imagining it or something. But it all felt so real, the idea that I'd hallucinated it was almost incomprehensible. I knew I'd had a lot on my plate lately with the divorce and everything. And moving was never an easy or stress-free venture, but I always had a sensible head on my shoulders... even though I did have a soft spot for supernatural shows like _The Twilight Zone_. But in spite of my enjoyment of such shows the idea that they had influenced this was ridiculous.

Wanting to scrub my head of its fervored imaginings, I rambled into the kitchen in search of something to drink. After the night I had, I felt in need of something sugary. As I wasn't likely to sleep any time in the near future, I decided to make myself a cup of hot chocolate. I walked over to the bench, put my book down, then set the kettle on the gas stove. While waiting for the water to heat up, I got down my favorite ceramic mug, and even grabbed a few marshmallows from the pantry. As soon as the kettle trilled, I took it off of the stove top and poured the boiling water into my mug to stir my chocolate.

Resigning to the fact that I could do no more about this night, I went back upstairs to the comfort of my bedroom. Nothing had changed from how I had left it before I went downstairs. A feeling a relief flooded my body and I walked over to my bed, put my drink on my nightstand and threw the book down. I flopped back on my pillows, overcome with exhaustion and adrenalin. It was such a odd contradiction; part of me wanted to sleep for a week and the other felt ramped up on a Ritalin high.

I fluffed the pillows behind me and propped myself up to take a sip of my hot chocolate. The smell was homey and sweet, and it brought much-needed comfort to the anxiety that still coursed through my system. My immediate worries were quelled by the fact that the man was obviously no longer in the house, but the thought that he'd just disappeared, when? How? I couldn't shake the feeling that something just wasn't adding up. I didn't want to let this get to me to the point I couldn't sleep or function, so I finished off the rest of my beverage and wrapped myself up in my sheets. I didn't like sleeping propped up but tonight was an exception. I wanted to remain as prepared as possible should something happen during the night. My eyes began to falter in spite of my mind running at a million miles an hour. I brought my Shakespeare volume closer to me, hoping its weight would be enough to knock out any potential intruder. Adjusting my position so that I was comfortable enough to sleep while still being able to see the room, I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.

**...**

I woke up the next morning to sun pouring through the blinds. The room was much brighter than usual. I checked my alarm clock and noticed that it was nearing eleven a.m. Normally, I would've jumped up and run around frantically, annoyed with myself for having slept in, but this morning I was so exhausted from the events of last night that I continued to lie there, allowing my body and mind to wake up from the haze that they were both locked in.

I felt calmer, though my mind was still full of thoughts of the phantom man. I had all but accepted having hallucinated the entire thing, despite feeling such a strong connection to him. It still felt remarkable to me that I didn't feel any inherent danger. I didn't possess much in the way of spiritual knowledge or beliefs, but I was open to certain concepts, and from what I could surmise, this man seemed to emit a quiet, peaceful aura. Nothing about him gave me any indication of his being violent or in any way dangerous. I looked over at the book that was still laying by my side. Not only had it poked me during the night, but now the thought of my wanting to use it as a weapon just seemed altogether ridiculous. I was undeniably apprehensive after his disappearance, but at no point did the man physically threaten me or in any other way scare me intentionally.

I internally scoffed at my overtly clichéd female behavior, and got out of bed, returning the book to its rightful place on the the shelf. The presence of the man still felt just as strong as it had last night, my memory of him unfailing. But having not found him in my house, and after a surprisingly decent sleep, I knew I had to let it go. It was a dream or an hallucination - nothing more.

Resolving to get on with my day, I put the incident out of my mind. I didn't expect that it would be easy to forget, but I knew if I let myself focus it on it, I would lose my mind... if I hadn't already. I went about my afternoon as best I could, making a few changes to the layout of the house until I was satisfied with its appearance. It was approaching dinner time when I entered my kitchen and remembered that my pantry was practically bare and I needed to head out to the supermarket before it closed to get ingredients for dinner.

Forks had one large supermarket, which catered to most of my needs. I tried to live as healthily as possible, and I wasn't always able to find everything I needed, but it generally served my purpose. I scoured the aisles searching for the the ingredients I needed and a few other staples to get me through the coming days. I had almost completed my shopping when I realized that I had forgotten the sauce for my meal. I dashed back to the aisle and began my search for the correct one. When I located it, I found that it was out of reach by just enough to keep me from it, even while standing on my tiptoes. No matter how much I strained, I wasn't able to breach the gap. At the end of the aisle, I noticed a tall male employee bagging items at the register. I checked to make sure he wasn't watching, then I shuffled the items on the bottom shelf out of my way to make room to stand on it. I knew it wasn't one of my best ideas, but I didn't like meek females who persisted in playing up their feminine wiles with men when they weren't able to easily do something. I refused to be like them. I had almost grabbed the sauce from the shelf when I was startled by a deep, commanding voice from behind asking if I needed some assistance.

"Shit!" My hand went straight to my heart in a moot attempt to stop it from bursting out of my chest.

"You startled me. I was just trying to reach the bottle on the top shelf up there, but someone with a grudge against short people decided it was necessary to put popular food items out of reach of half the population."

"I dunno about that, maybe they just like the idea of allowing chivalrous men like myself to be able to help a lady out." I internally scoffed at the man and his obvious attempt at flirting. I found his line cheesy, and if that was the way he approached most females, I would hope anyone else would think the same.

He continued on, "Allow me, Miss...?" Now he was pulling a Mr. Darcy on me. His attempt was definitely going nowhere fast.

"Thank you, but I almost had it. I'm sure I can manage."

"I'm sure you can, too," he continued with a wink, "but I don't want to see a pretty lady like yourself fall over and get hurt. Please let me get it." He reached up and easily brought the bottle down to me.

"I'm Jared Tsosie, and you are?"

I sighed and took the bottle from him, placing it in my shopping basket. "I'm Bella Swan." Looking back up from my basket, I noticed a strange look on Jared's face.

"Bella Swan? Caius Swan's granddaughter?"

"Um, yes?" I don't know why I answered it as a question. I knew who I was, but something about his tone of voice and the look in his eyes made me feel cautious and even a little nervous in his presence.

"You live in the manor he owned, right? I heard he left it to you after he passed away. I'm sorry to hear about that by the way." I was feeling increasingly unsure about where this was going, and as much as I didn't want to be standing here in the middle of the supermarket having this discussion, I felt oddly compelled to know where he was taking this.

"Forks is a small place Mr. Tsosie, it's strange that you seem to know a lot about me and yet I can't say I've ever heard of you." He looked down, almost appearing nervous himself.

"I, uh... the Swan name is known quite well down on the Rez where I'm from, and please call me Jared." This was beginning to make some sense now. I had noticed his russet colored skin and not thought anything of it, but hearing that he was from the Rez, it suddenly clicked why he would know my name.

"My father knew Cauis well, I guess you could have called them friends. I don't know how close they were but I saw a lot of him down our way when I was younger." I smiled at the thought of my granddad having somewhere to be other than the house after grandma passed away, though it also made me think of him, which I hadn't really done since moving into my new home. I felt my eyes begin to well up with tears and knew if I didn't get it together, I'd be shedding them at any moment.

A strange silence descended over us and I looked around trying to discreetly wipe my eyes, not sure what I could use as my reason to leave before I started sobbing.

The store speaker crackled, and a polite but young-sounding voice told us that the store would be closing in five minutes time. I took a deep breath hoping that the evidence of my sadness had dissipated enough that I could get away without being caught. I wasn't ashamed of my emotions, I just didn't want to talk about them to anyone. I looked back again at Jared and thanked him for his help. While I knew I could have done it myself, I wasn't so stuck in feminist doctrine that I wouldn't allow help if I came across it. I began walking toward the registers when I heard Jared call out my name.

"Bella, this may be an odd question, but your house, have you experienced anything odd there? Maybe a noise or a feeling...?" My face betrayed me and I let out a slight gasp.

"Oh, never mind. It was dumb of me to ask. I apologize. I'll let you get back to your shopping." My mouth went completely dry and I tried to speak, but nothing came out. I felt like a fish out of water struggling for oxygen. When I finally gained some composure, I noticed Jared was at the registers and almost ready to leave. I wanted to run up to him and demand he tell me what he talking about. How could he know? But a voice inside my head stopped me, saying it would be ridiculous to run after a man I didn't know. For all I knew he could have been talking about something entirely different. I would be made a fool of if I told him about my experience with the man in the attic. After all, it was just a hallucination. I had accepted this and moved on.

But what if there was something to what he was saying? The likelihood that he was referring to my own experience, well, that had to be slim to none, right? I picked up my basket and made my way toward the checkout. My head felt light, yet my legs were like lead as though I had been trawling through a murky swamp. I needed answers, but didn't know where to find them. Jared spotted me just as I began placing my items on the checkout. He appeared contemplative; his head was leaning on a slight angle and his eyes were squinted. He knew something, it was obvious. But what? And how did I find out without revealing myself a possible raving lunatic?

I paid for my shopping and left the store. I felt slightly better than I had not long ago, but couldn't stop hearing his voice over and over in my head. As I reached my car I spotted him three spaces down, by his truck. He had his phone to his ear and he seemed to be speaking to someone about something serious. I debated leaving, but my legs seemed to decide for me because I didn't even know I had made the decision until I found myself only a few steps behind him. I meant to subtly cough or show some sign that I was there, but what I heard from him next prevented that. His tone was clipped and he didn't seem to want to be having the conversation. I was still in a bit of a fog, but I clearly heard him say that I had looked as though I was about to collapse when he mentioned the house to me. He seemed to become agitated then and in a rush to get off the phone. I began to walk backwards in an attempt to get out of there as quietly as I could. He ended the call by practically barking to the person on the other end to "stay out of it," before hanging up. I had no idea what he meant, but I felt a surge of uneasiness flood through me and I bolted back to my car.

I was practically in tears and hyperventilating by the time I opened my car door and got the engine to turn over. Neither reaction dissipated during my drive home, and I silently thanked whomever was in control of everything that the roads were practically empty.

As I made way way up the driveway, my wracking sobs slowly dissolved into silent tears that caressed my cheeks. I gathered my bags of groceries and went inside. At this moment I needed my granddad more than ever. This 'gift' he had given me was supposed to herald a new start for me after everything that had happened in the past year, but so far it had brought me nothing but questions and emotional upheaval. This wasn't how it was meant to be. I had had enough of being put through the wringer. I needed this new start and I wanted to be in control, but yet again something else was controlling me. I wanted to collapse in a heap and let my emotional fracas take over; but that would be giving in, something I had promised myself I wouldn't do.

I resolved then and there to not let this happen. This was my house, my do-over. It didn't matter what anyone else thought of my home. I didn't care if there were rumors or whatever the story was going around about it. Whatever Mr. Tsosie... Jared, was talking about, I didn't care. So long as I knew what was real, that was all that mattered.

Rather than let myself get all worked up about it again, I began to prepare my dinner, given the time of day I was glad I choose the expeditious meal of stir fry. Pleased that it had only taken thirty minutes, including preparation, and had filled my kitchen with the soothing aromas of lemongrass and ginger, I sat down in my comfy armchair and turned the television on - something I rarely did over dinner, but I needed something to distract me from my thoughts.

I ended up channel surfing, finding nothing on but prosaic comedies that failed to live up to their supposed humor. I finally came across something decent to watch and relaxed further into my chair... cleaning up and dishes be damned, I didn't really care about them at this moment. I wanted nothing more than to let them fester while I finally enjoyed some relaxation time. I smiled to myself as I wrapped a throw around my shoulders and let all thoughts of strange noises and babbling naked men evaporate from my mind.

I had been sitting in the same position, glued to the program I was watching, when I felt a sudden compulsion to check my front door. I squashed it down, believing it to be borne from my paranoia, and continued watching the television. After a few minutes of trying relentlessly not to let my eyes wander in the direction of the foyer, I stood up and walked the short distance. The door was locked just as I had left it. I silently berated myself for giving in to the voice in my head. Just as I was about return to the living and my program, I heard a noise not dissimilar to the one I had heard last night, only it sounded much closer than it had then. My immediate inclination was to laugh it off as being a trick my mind was playing on me, but for some unknown reason I continued to stand there and listen for more.

I heard nothing for a few moments and had almost given up when all of a sudden it sounded like someone was dragging something very sharp across a smooth surface... paper maybe? The sound grew closer and louder as I reached the stairs. I felt more in control of myself than I had last night and took each step with a sure footing. Whatever was making this noise was not going to be making it for much longer. I thought back to the prior night and remembered that I had briefly been concerned the noise was from rats nesting in my walls. The sound was not foreign to me as Charlie had once had to call an exterminator to rid them from his house. In that moment, I became certain that rats had to be the cause of the scratching.

I continued up the stairs to where the sound became more pronounced, and stopped as I reached the spare bedroom opposite mine. The scratching was reminiscent of someone torturing paper by scribbling something continuously on it, but it was much louder than that sort of sound would normally generate. Yep, definitely rats. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it. As I turned away from the door and began to head back downstairs, I froze, a sweeping cascade of chills running down my spine.

"Hush little baby don't say a word,

Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird,"

A voice so sweet in its charm filled the hallway, enveloping me in its presence.

_This isn't happening, this isn't happening._

I was dreaming it again... I had to be.

"And if that mockingbird won't sing,

Papa's gonna buy you a diamond ring,"

The dulcet tones of the female voice were pulling me toward that room; the room I didn't ever want to return to. What was it with this godforsaken house? I tried to pull away, but like a moth to a flame, I felt myself walking closer and closer toward the attic door.

"And if that diamond ring turns brass,

Papa's gonna buy you a looking glass,"

With one foot in front of the other, I hesitantly ascended the stairs. The gentle soprano voice crescendoed with each step I took. I knew I should run for hills, but the compassionate, almost loving voice lulled me into a state of repose. I stood at the top of the stairs drinking in the lullaby. It had been a long time since I had heard it. My dad sung it to me throughout my childhood, especially when I would wake from a sleep, sobbing and heaving from a dream about my mother. I had had many dreams about her growing up, and singing this song was the one thing that Charlie could do that seemed to have any positive effect on me. He once changed the lyric from 'Mama' to 'Papa' and I cried so hard at that moment that he told me he feared I was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. I hadn't meant to upset him, because I knew he was trying to help me grieve in whatever way I could, but when he sang those words to me I felt connected to my mother in a way I would never be able to while I was alive and she was not.

Forcing myself out of my reverie, I stepped out into the room and took in my surroundings. Nothing had changed from last night. The voice continued to sing through the verses, reverberating around the room. It conveyed such love and adoration, it was hard to not want to just stand there and bask in those feelings as they permeated the room. In spite of the calm I felt, I knew something was wrong. This wasn't right and I had to discover the cause, or leave or room... I had to do something, anything but just stand here and bask in it.

"And if that dog named Rover won't bark,

Papa's gonna buy you a horse and cart,"

I turned to leave, thinking it the best course of action. I could go downstairs and get a grip on myself, remove myself from the scene... and find that this, too, had been in my head, just like everything else. As I reached the stairs, the singing suddenly ceased and a chill whipped around, causing dust to fly about. The only window in the room was shut tight, not having been opened in years. I coughed and spluttered, my hair was in my face, caught in mouth. My dress lashed around my legs, I tried opening my eyes but the dust was stinging them.

"Bellaaaaaaa," the voice was was a hushed vibrato and it echoed around the room. I spun around squinting for the cause... and he was there. My knees buckled and I collapsed, the shock of seeing the man before me knocking the air from my lungs. My legs splayed out from under me, and I looked over to where I had seen the man - he was still there, unmoved from his position. I brushed the hair from my eyes to get a better look at him. He was sitting on the other side of the room nearest to the chest, the complete opposite end from where he was the first time I saw him.

He was definitely back.

Bending my knees so they were under my body, I pushed myself up from the floor. Once upright, I began slowly and warily tiptoeing towards the man. In spite of his sudden return out of nowhere, I still did not feel scared of him. If anything, I felt even more empathy for him than I had the previous night. Taking in his appearance he looked exactly the same; his pants just as disheveled, and his chest as bare and pale as I remembered. His hair was a rampageous eyesore that hung from his face in a mass of knots and straggly strands. His face was not visible to me because he had buried it behind his arms that lay across his bent knees.

As I made my way closer to him, I noticed that his body was heaving, almost quaking violently. I knelt next to him, far enough away to be safe, but not so far that I couldn't help in some way if he needed it. I wanted to offer him some kind of comfort. Of course this wasn't the most common reaction given everything that had happened, but the feeling that there was something drawing me to him - some kind of connection - told me to help in whatever way I could.

I began to reach out to show him some sign that I was no threat, but as I did so he suddenly looked up from his makeshift hiding place. I gasped and fell back on my ass in shock. It was obvious he was crying; he had tears sliding down his cheeks. Yet despite his overwrought state, he was deathly silent.

Seeing this man in such a poor state, I wanted nothing more than to protect him from whatever it was that upset or scared him enough to cause him such pain.

Recovering myself from my collapsed state on the floor, I knelt in front of him and contemplated reaching out to him once more, but his reaction to my previous attempt caused me to reconsider. The only other way I could communicate with him without startling him was to speak to him and try to coax him out of whatever emotional turmoil he was locked in.

"Are you okay?" I internally berated myself for asking such a stupid question. It was obvious he wasn't okay, but I didn't know what else to ask.

"I'm just going to come a little closer, okay. If you want me to stop just let me know and I won't go any further." I inched forward a little on my knees until I found myself only a couple of feet away. Trying to get comfortable as I situated myself on the uneven surface, I lost my balance and began to fall, reaching out to make purchase on his arm. I missed, falling forward, and landed on the hardwood floor, my right wrist crumpling under the full weight of my body.

Pain shot up my arm and I screamed as tears began to course down my face, peppering the floor beside me. Looking up, I realized I was so close to the man I could practically touch him. How then was he not able to acknowledge what had just happened right in front of him? Anger started to broil as I contemplated his selfishness, and as I prepared to ask him why he didn't prevent my fall, I found that he was staring right at me. My wrist was immobile, throbbing with pain, yet all I could think about was this man. Something about the way he was staring seemed off. His eyes were blank and unyielding, and he didn't appear to be focusing on me or anything in particular. It was like I wasn't even there.

Another bolt of pain shot up through my muscles to my shoulder, and I was sure I had done some serious harm to my joint. But I couldn't focus on that now. Every thought I owned was of this strange man in front of me, and reaction or not, his pain was all I cared to deal with. Leaning on my injured right wrist, I carefully moved my left hand and waved it in front of him, but still there was nothing; not even a blink. Pushing back my fears, I realized then there was no other choice. I had to touch him. Lifting my left hand one more time, I stretched it slowly outward, daring it to close the few inches that remained between us. My tears had all but stopped, only an errant few still pooling at the corners of my eyes. Sniveling and fearing some sort of reaction, I swallowed one last breath, and reached my hand towards his arm.

As my fingers finally made contact with his form, an Arctic blast of wind burst through the room, and in an instant he was gone, evaporating in a swirling cloud of mist.

**Edward**

I woke up with tears swimming in my eyes, to someone screaming, the sound piercing and gut wrenching. Unable to determine where the sound had come from, I rolled over and reached for the bedside table where I always kept a glass of water. As soon as I grasped for the water, a splitting pain rocketed up my arm from my wrist. A scream tore out of my throat as an onslaught of images crashed through my mind like a demolition ball destroying a building: a dank and musty room, a large chest adorned with curious etchings, strange paintings I'd never seen before. But among them all, one image stood out: a beautiful heart-shaped face with brown compassionate eyes and a soft pink mouth offering soothing words of calm.

It was her! She came back to me. But where was she now? Why did she always disappear? And why was she always in this strange unknown room?

Feelings of rejection and abandonment crushed me like slabs of concrete falling from a great height. The wind left my lungs, leaving me struggling for breath. My wrist continued to pound in pain; it felt as though I had fallen down, with it copping the full impact.

I lay there, gulping in deep breaths of oxygen, trying to regulate my breathing. My cheeks felt tight and stretched as though I had been sobbing for hours, the trails of dried up tears that stuck to my cheeks the only evidence I had to confirm that.

Questions were mounting and I had no answers, only confusion and anger. What was happening to me? _Why _was this happening to me?

I had to clear my head before I allowed these new sensations to overtake me and render me completely unable to think.

I sucked in a deep, cleansing breath, and with my body feeling as though it was slowly returning to normal, untangled myself from the mess of my bedsheets. Careful of my still-aching wrist, I maneuvered myself to the edge of the bed and placed my feet on the floor, hoping for some kind of balance before I stood up. I headed into the bathroom for a shower, intent on cleansing not just my body, but my mind, knowing that the only way I could ever find the answers was to form the right questions.

As I stood from the bed, I felt a strange fluttering down my leg and something landed on my foot. I bent down to remove whatever it was and felt what I thought was a piece of paper of some sorts. I picked it up and turned on the bedside lamp to take a better look. It was rather small, no larger than the palm of my hand, and was covered in a floral design, its edges yellowed and curled over. The texture was rough and felt similar to thick antique writing paper, crackled and stiff from age. Running my fingers over the paper, I felt something disintegrate into the palm of my hand from the other side. I flipped it over, and discovered a brown powder-like substance; glue, wallpaper glue, to be precise. It was wallpaper of some kind, but I didn't recognize it as anything I had ever seen before, and like the key, I knew it was just a small piece to an even greater mystery.

In that moment, there was only one thing I was sure of, something very strange was happening to me, and what that was and why that was, I had no idea, but I knew I had to find out.

**...**

**I know, I know another cliffie. It's a suspense. What do you expect? **

**I'd love to know your thoughts or theories in a review. **

**I'll be hiding over in the Twilighted thread if there are any questions. http:/ www [dot] twilighted [dot] net/forum/viewtopic [dot] php?f=44&t=7742**


	6. The Salt of My Tears

**Innumerable thanks for my beta alonelily for all the time and work she puts in. Seriously, bb, thank you does not cover my gratitude.**

**Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, however the plot is mine.**

**...**

**The Salt of My Tears**

**Edward**

I sat at my desk, the occasional crackle of the flickering fluorescent light reminding me that I was, actually, here in my office and not in that strange dream that I had this morning. I willed my eyes to remain open, feeling them sting from the irritation of constantly rubbing them with the palms of my hands. I stirred my coffee, extra strong; black with three packets of sugar, the spoon softly clinking on the edge of the ceramic as I tried to make sense of everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours.

Bile came up from my gut as I poured over each detail. What had happened? Was that really a dream, or some kind of mind-altering event? And that woman, who was she? Every possibility swarming my mind seemed as far-fetched as the next. For the first time in my life, I was truly frightened. But far-fetched was my game, it was what I was skilled in. I'd made it my life's work to understand certain enigmas. Yet this time, I had no answers, only constant questions, and no place from which to start.

I raised the mug to my mouth, welcoming the scorching sensation as the bitter liquid poured down my throat.

The thoughts from the previous night never left my mind, not even in the refuge of the shower or car, the two places I could normally rely upon to be my respite from reality, brief as it may be. In fact, they'd left me so detached and withdrawn I had almost had an accident during my morning commute; something I was not willing to chance again. I fixated on the items before me on my desk: the wallpaper, the key and the letter. The clues. Three very ordinary clues. Where did they come from, and more importantly, what did they all mean?

The letter had explicitly mentioned the Philadelphia Project, something of which I was well versed about. I had studied it throughout my degree and it was the subject of my dissertation for my Master's in Psychology. The person who sent me this was either genuinely unaware of this fact and they were trying to lead me on a wild goose chase, or they knew my history and were possibly trying to point something out to me.

But what? That I was the subject of some secret government project designed to test Einstein's unified field theory? Someone had gone to great lengths to play mind games with me and I was not appreciating it. Whatever was happening to me had nothing to do with government cover-ups or conspiracies. It was absurd to think as much.

Knowing the answers wouldn't come easily, I shoved the clues to the corner of my desk and did what I thought best to take my mind off matters: work.

I continued to read the numerous articles that landed on my desk and in my inbox daily. It was at times at a tiresome job, but I loved it and thoroughly enjoyed the research it gave me opportunity to carry out. There weren't many others out there who shared my professional and personal interest and who were genuinely concerned with making sure that the proper methods were taken, rather than playing silly games with Ouija boards as many were inclined to do.

As I continued my work throughout remainder of the afternoon, I caught myself glancing over in the direction of the letter. Just like that damn key, it too, was taunting me. No matter how much I tried in earnest to forget about it and busy myself with my work, nothing could distract me.

I was battling to keep my anger in check towards the end of the afternoon. The letter was a cruel trick, but someone had to know it would confuse me. I wanted to rip the damn thing up and throw it in the wastebasket, but I couldn't. My mind was a battle zone, one side telling me to get rid of it and the other to keep it, because it had to mean something. I was caught between two warring enemies - the white flag of surrender firmly tucked away; never unfurled.

I couldn't seem to sit still in my chair; my mind was never on the job. Again, I needed to leave the room, get some fresh air... something. Walking out into the hallway, I passed a few offices and headed out to the balcony off the foyer where I would be within reach if needed, but still far enough away that I could clear my head of the mess that continued to plague my thoughts. After a good twenty minutes of taking in the scenery and allowing it to revitalize my body, I entered the building, walking back toward my office. Rosalie was headed in my direction, her eyes cast down, buried in a stack of paperwork. I moved to the side to allow her space, but as I went to pass, her head shot up, and she stared at me straight in the eyes before she wobbled slightly and began to lose her footing, falling into my shoulder.

I helped her upright and smiled at her, understanding the pressures of a hectic workload and how that can affect your attention to things around you. I was about to walk off when she grabbed at my shoulder pulling me back slightly.

"What gives, Edward. Knock some poor girl up?"

I almost choked on my own surprised laughter. Where the hell did she pull that one from?

"What are you talking about, Rose?"

"'Hush little baby', Edward. That's a rather random tune to be humming if you're not expecting a baby sometime soon."

"I was not humming 'Hush little baby', Rose. You must be mistaken. I don't know what it was, but it certainly was not that."

"That is where you're mistaken, because it most definitely was. I know that lullaby rather well. I am an aunt after all."

While that was the case, surely that didn't make her right? Why would I have a baby's bedtime song in my head. This was crazy talk, no, she had to have made a mistake. But Rose being Rose would not let this go if I didn't agree, I knew this from previous arguments. She was like a dog with a bone...utterly tenacious.

"Um... okay if you say so Rose." I scoffed at her... myself... maybe both. At this point, I wasn't sure of much of anything.

"You know I'm never wrong Edward. It's a peculiar song coming from you, but to each his own."

I was just about to turn around and continue onto my office when I decided it was now or never. I could ask and at least know one way or another what, if anything, Rosalie knew.

"Rose, you didn't happen to leave a note for me on my desk yesterday? It's okay if you did, I just need to know where it came from," I looked up into her eyes and she was staring back at me with a look that equaled complete stupefaction.

"Edward, what are you talking about now? What letter? I swear to God, sometimes I just don't know about you." Rosalie seemed genuinely shocked by my question. It was obvious she had no knowledge or part in it, and that only furthered my anguish.

"The letter. On my desk," I hissed in almost a whisper. "You know, the one about..." I took a quick glance around the hall before I continued in an even more hushed tone. "Philadelphia," I finally intoned, my lips barely moving. I eyed her intently, my jaw taut, willing my cryptic message to somehow sink in to her.

Rose turned towards me fully, her eyes fraught with concern.

"Emmett and I have always worried that your job would fuck with your head, and well... look, you just... lately you seem off. Like something is _really_ not right. You're really beginning to scare us. I'm... we're concerned."

Wow! I was scaring them. I was scaring _them. "_Ha,_" _I scoffed internally. _"No more than I'm scaring myself." _If only they knew the half of it.

"Thanks," I mumbled, looking down towards my feet. I inhaled deeply, and raked my fingers through my hair as if tugging enough would somehow make this swirl of thoughts disappear.

"You know you can come to us," Rose offered. "Anytime."

"Yeah, I know," I exhaled, thankful for the show of support.

She turned to go back down the hall and then stopped, looking over her shoulder.

"You need a break, Edward."

A break. Well now, that was a thought. Unfortunately with my current workload that didn't seem at all likely.

I nodded my head in agreement, though I'm sure she knew as well as I did that even if I could take time off I probably wouldn't. I was married to my job and quite happily, well, with the exception of what seemed to go hand in hand with it over the past couple of days.

Giving Rosalie a small smile, I told her I had best get back to the office as things were piling up and I wanted to be out of there on time tonight. She clapped me on the shoulder and returned my smile, before continuing down the hall. It was obvious her concern for me was genuine, but I didn't feel in a place right now to be sharing with her, or anyone, the details of what was happening to me.

I made it back to my office and sat down in my chair, surveying everything on my desk. My attention to my work had waned and I had an inbox that was overflowing with paperwork and letters that needing signing. I checked my email and calender and realized I'd neglected to call Jenks about a follow up regarding my new assistants. I immediately picked the phone and dialed his extension. We spoke for a few minutes and he told me based on an email I'd sent him regarding the two I preferred he went ahead and called them in for an interview. I hung up with him feeling relieved that I would have more hands on deck in the next week or so.

Pulling a few files from my tray, I flicked through them but found nothing to hold my interest. I hastily threw them down on the desk creating a swirl of wind causing the wallpaper to fly off the desk. As I pushed my chair back and leaned over to pick it up, it fluttered farther away.

Nothing was going my way today!

I got out of my chair and knelt down to pick it up. I appraised the piece carefully, taking great care with it as it was obviously quite aged and fragile. The pattern was definitely feminine but had an element of subtlety to it. I would say it was probably from an early twentieth century home, perhaps Arts and Crafts design, similar to the one my parents had owned my entire life.

I sat back down in my seat and opened up a new browser. I had no idea what I was doing or how I would find anything - if that were at all possible. I situated the wallpaper in front of me and placed my fingers on the keys. I was about to type when the phone rang, startling me. Believing it to be Emmett or someone else I was not in the mood to speak to, I picked up the phone rather irritated for the interruption.

"This is Edward Cullen."

**...**

**Bella**

I fell back on my ass, pushing myself backwards as far away as I could from what I had just witnessed. That hadn't just happened! I scrambled to stand up, my limbs shaking furiously, the pressure of pushing myself up off the floor sending spasms of pain up my arm, but I didn't care. I bolted for the door, a scream erupting from my throat. I didn't dare turn around, I had to get out of the room. Running down the stairs, I almost lost my footing numerous times, my muscles so weak I was struggling to remain upright.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs I swung the door shut, slamming it so hard the walls reverberated around me.

The house was blanketed by nightfall. I couldn't see where I was going and I ran into the banister of the first floor landing, winding myself from the force of hitting it. A bright flash of lightning stuck outside from a window at the end of the hall and lit up the area around me, creating shadows on the wall.

I just had to get out there. I had to get away. I turned and ran down the stairs to the living area, nearly falling over my feet in a effort to get somewhere - anywhere - as quickly as I could.

My ankle went out from under me as I hit the bottom stair, causing me to fall forward. I landed on my knees and grazed my skin on the floorboards. Tears were pouring down my cheeks, and it worsened with the pain of falling. I struggled to stand up but a nearby chair gave me something to lean on. Taking a few deep breaths to regain some stability, I spun around, looking for somewhere to hide.

I doubled back to the foyer at the bottom of the stairs. There was a small storage closet underneath, I ran over to it and turned the knob, pulling it open roughly. It swung back and slammed loudly into the wall of the stairs. I gasped and quickly reached out for the handle, scared that whoever was in the house heard it and would be able to find me. I ducked inside the small room, and moved to the far back corner, sitting down and pulling my knees hard into my chest before wrapping my arms tightly around them, trying to find whatever comfort I could.

I continued to sit there, rocking like some crazed lunatic. Every time I heard a sound, no matter how small, I couldn't help the high pitched scream that emanated from deep within myself.

This was all granddad's fault. He knew there was something wrong with this house, all those stories he would tell me as child were true after all. Why would he do this to me? I was his only grandchild. Did he not love me? Was it some silly way of getting back at my father for the two of them not being close when he passed?

I clutched at my knees even tighter, feeling my nails dig into arms. The pain was uncomfortable but none of that mattered. Someone was after me. It called my name. _My name!_ What did it want from me?

I hadn't stopped sobbing and with every passing minute it worsened. I was crying so hard I was barely making a sound. Rocking back and forth, I fell over onto my side in the fetal position. My cheeks felt like they were about to crack from the pain of crying so violently, but I couldn't stop. I grabbed at my hair, pulling at it, feeling some strands come loose in my hands.

All I wanted was to start again but no matter how much I needed that, life never let me. I was always the one left behind. Embry left me, sure, but hey, my own mother couldn't even hang on to see me through my childhood. Why should I be surprised that my husband wanted nothing to do with me. I had the perfect opportunity for a fresh start, but yet again, life had it in for me. I may as well have a fucking tattoo on my forehead that said "Bella: really, it's okay, you don't have to love me. No one else did."

I sniveled into my sleeves, unable to control the pain and fright weeping out of every pore of my body. I didn't deserve this. I hadn't done anything wrong. I was a good daughter, a great wife. I tended to Embry's needs. I gave him _everything_. I wouldn't be in the situation if it was not for his heartless and cruel behavior.

My stomach lurched forward and I felt the need to heave. I was crying so hard I was dry-retching.

The only words I could mange, "why, why, why?" Tears were running down into my mouth, their saltiness the one thing my mind was aware of outside of everything else around me.

I blotted my tears on my now sopping sleeves, willing myself into some semblance of rationality. Where had this started, _how_ had this started? All I could remember was the eerie voice and the face of that man, so pained, so tormented, so... _kind_? A new wave of despair crashed into me as I let the images of the attic once again consume my each and every thought. He was so real, like he was standing there before me. I touched him. I _know _it. New tears, more bitter than the last, came pouring out of me as a fresh wave of panic started to set in.

I pushed back this time, fighting against it before I let it swallow me whole. Taking in slow, meditative breaths, one after the other, I finally forced myself into some half-state of relaxation. Mentally and physically spent, I lay on my side, curling into myself and rested, focusing as best I could on my breathing as my body finally started to settle. At some point my eyes must have closed of their own volition. There were no dreams, just a blank sense of nothingness that finally took over.

I don't know how long I had been lying there, minutes, maybe hours, when I heard a knock at the door. It sounded gentle to begin with, but as it persisted, the strength of the knocking escalated until it became urgent, along with the sound of a voice calling out to me. The person sounded familiar. I knew I should let them in, but I couldn't move from my spot. I felt frozen in place, my limbs not cooperating with the demands of my brain.

A strange sound resonated through the entryway, a clicking tone. They were coming in. But no one had a key... well expect for Jasper and he was not the one at the door. I pulled my knees in tighter to my chest, my muscles stiff and sore from being locked around my legs all night.

The door creaked open and I hear could a sweet voice with a undercurrent of panic beckon throughout the foyer.

"Bella? Bella, are you here?"

I heard nothing for a moment and then she asked again.

"Bella? It's me, Alice. Jasper lent me the spare key you gave him. Bella, if you're home, can you call out or something? Jasper sent me over here to make sure you were alright. You haven't called in absent from work and he's worried about you."

I tried to call out to her but I couldn't make a sound, my throat tight and dry from a night of incessant sobbing. Pulling myself up as much as I could I crawled toward the door, my arms unable to carry my weight the entire way without collapsing. When I reached the door, I stretched my arm up and tried to grasp onto the knob but slipped.

Damn it! I needed to get out this closet. I tried calling to Alice again but could manage little more than a raspy smoker's voice. She wouldn't hear that. Again, I tried reaching for the handle. I grabbed it and almost had it but slipped, the sound of it swinging back up creating a loud rattling sound as the lock clicked back into position.

Footsteps approached in my direction and I heard Alice call out to me.

"Bella, is that you?"

With my open palm I whacked it against the door with every ounce of energy I could muster and I heard her take a few more steps before the door handle turned and she opened it, immediately seeing me on the floor and kneeling down before me.

"My God, Bella. What happened? What are you doing in the closet? You... you've been crying... all night by looks of it."

I tried to respond but I could only manage strangling sounds, increasing my panic all over again. I was hyperventilating, gasping for air, tears once again teeming down my cheeks.

Alice wrapped me in her arms, hushing me and telling me everything would be all right. I wanted to scream at her at no, _nothing_ would be all right. It _wasn't ever_ going to be all right. Not while I was here in this house, with whatever was after me, but again I could only splutter and cough. I was a complete mess and unable to even tell her what was going on, but then even if I could, would she believe me? I knew I probably wouldn't.

"Sweetie, you need to calm down. Come on, let me help you up and go and sit over on the couch." She put her arms underneath mine and helped me to stand. I was unsteady from having been wrapped up in my own little cocoon all night. She helped drag me up into a standing position and I unsteadily made my way over to the couch. I lowered myself to sit while Alice fetched me a box of tissues. Sitting down beside me, she pulled me into her side, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, and rubbing up and down in an effort to soothe my fraught nerves.

"Do you think you'll be okay for a moment if I get you a glass of water?"

I wanted to nod, to tell her I'd be fine, but all I could do was cling to her for dear life.

"Ssshh, Bella. It's all right, I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here."

Her voice was a balm that penetrated my skin, latching to my soul and calming my nerves. I took a deep but shaky breath, my lungs greedily swallowing every bit of oxygen I took in.

"Talk to me, Bella. You're freaking me out. What's wrong?"

I was fidgeting with my bottom of my dress, and biting the inside of my lip so hard I'd created an ulcer overnight. Every time I opened my mouth hoping to be able to tell her what had happened, more tears would fall from my puffy eyes. I'd rubbed them to the point that they were raw and stinging; I could barely see.

"Th... there... there was a... a man."

"A man? Where?"

"In the...at- attic"

"In the attic. Well did you call someone? Your father?"

I saw her mouth continue moving but I heard nothing else, I felt like I was pushing through a heavy fog enveloping the English moors, unable to see more than a few feet in front of me. I inhaled deeply through my nose a number of times, swallowed my tears and tried to get a hold of myself. Shaking my my head I informed her, "No, it wasn't... it wasn't like that. He wasn't real."

Alice exhaled loudly, she was obviously confused. "Not real. Bella, what do you mean not real?"

"He vanished, in front of me. I saw him...it... I saw it." I was pointing frantically in the direction of the ceiling indicting what was beyond that... where it had happened.

"Bella, I don't understand. You need to calm down and tell me what happened."

"I can't calm down Alice, don't you get it. I just told you a man... a something... just disappeared... literally into thin air right in front of me."

"Okay sweetie, just calm down. Take a deep breath and we'll talk about this."

"Don't tell me to calm down, because I can't. I don't know what's happening to me Alice. I thought I was losing my mind... and then it happened again. But I can't be if I saw the same thing twice. There is something here... in this house. Music is playing without me turning on the CD player, I'm hearing scratching noises..." I was screaming and waving my hands furiously at this point, almost hitting Alice in my attempt to convey my story.

"Bella, Bella... just wait. You're talking crazy; disappearing men, music playing from nowhere."

"Crazy... " I don't where it came from but a laugh so piercing and maniacal erupted from inside of me. I couldn't contain myself. I gripped my stomach because it was beginning to hurt from the force of my muscles undulating and contracting. It was as if the laugh were coming from some place outside of me, and at times it hardly even sounded like me. I wanted to control it, but like the tears throughout the night, it just wouldn't stop. It continued to course through me, becoming louder, almost reverberating through the house, like it was echoing itself. I wanted to stop, I had to stop, but the thought of it, and everything that had happened before, were so absurd, I just let it consume me until I could go on no more.

When I finally got a grip on myself Alice appeared horrified and near tears.

"Alice, don't call me crazy. I thought I was until it happened again. The same thing doesn't happen twice if you're crazy... well I don't think so. This house is haunted or something. I'm sure of it. What I'm seeing and hearing is reminiscent of stories my granddad used to tell me. Not exactly the same, but close enough." I lowered my head; my hair falling in a curtain around my face. I nervously began fidgeting with a section, pulling on it and wrapping over my finger. "I know it sounds crazy, but I don't know how else to explain it."

"Bella, I want to believe you. I do. It's just...these things don't happen, except maybe on one of those Ghost Hunters shows on TV or in some movie. It's all made-up, I'm sure."

"But what about Jared?"

"Jared?" She gave me a quizzical look, scrunching up her tiny sprite-like nose.

"Jared Tsosie, from the rez," I explained. "When I went to the store yesterday, he asked me about the house, about any strange noises I'd heard, or things I had felt. How would he know that if it wasn't true? I mean, it's not exactly the kind of random question you ask someone you'd never met before."

"Hmmm." Alice fidgeted on her end of the couch. "Did you ask him about it?"

"No. I didn't really let on that I knew anything. But then later, in the parking lot, I overheard him talking to someone on his cell phone...he mentioned the house to someone, and sounded, I don't know, really strange."

"Well, maybe you should go and talk to him." The conviction in her voice was strong, as if in some small way, she had started to believe me.

"Alice, I can't just barge down there and demand answers." I bent my head, letting my hair fall forward, and started to play with the now-wet tissue Alice had offered me earlier.

"Sure you can. Why not? It's your house, and if this Jared or whoever he is knows anything about it, then you have the right to know."

I smiled hesitantly to myself as I took in her remark. Of course I had the right to know.

"Will you go with me?" I looked up at her from the tissue which was now wasted in shreds in my hands.

She hesitated a moment, a very _un_Alice like thing to do.

"I don't think that's a good idea. This is something you need to do on your own," she stated, a hint of mischief in her voice. "Besides," she said, hopping off the sofa, "I've got something to do."

"Alice...?" I looked up, knowing that whatever she had going on in that head of hers could only mean she was up to no good.

"Don't worry, it will be fine." She leaned down, kissed me squarely on the forehead, and before I could register what she was doing, she was out the door.

**...**

The drive to La Push was faster than I anticipated; I had not been down here before, or at least that I could remember. When I arrived, I spotted Jared in the distance with a few other men, and immediately felt myself seethe with fury. He was toying with me whether he meant to or not. He had no idea how much I needed this house, and this new start. It was everything to me. Tears again formed, clouding my vision as I pulled over by a log of a fallen tree and stepped out of my car. I was so distraught I couldn't be bothered to even wipe away the evidence of my crying. Maybe if I didn't he would be more inclined to share what he knew.

As I approached him, anxiety spread throughout my body like a firestorm. I could no longer contain my rage, nor my casual pace in walking up to him. I began running at him, charging like a bull toward a red flag. He saw me coming and took a step back, the men around him giving me questioning glances, one almost looking as though he were about to laugh.

I pulled up just before running into him. "What do you know? I know you know something. I saw written all over your face." I whacked him in the chest, not caring how hard I hit. He obviously didn't believe that I was serious before, but I wanted him to know just how much I really was. I could barely stand, my knees were shaking uncontrollably, but I _had_ to get through this. I had to find out what he knew and why he was being evasive with me.

"Bella, I don't know anything. It was stupid of me to ask. I'm truly sorry if I upset you..." He over-enunciated the 'know', staring me down, trying to give me cause to back away. His eyes softened a little however as he apologized, a glisten in them almost enough to mistake it for a tear, which only exacerbated my anger.

Scoffing at him, I felt my confidence grow in spite of his height and the group of burly men flanking him. "Upset me, Jared? You've more than upset me! There's something in my house. And if not, then something is happening to me and _you_ know what it is. Why else would you have asked me without really knowing me, without having a reason to ask?"

"I don't know why I did that. Like I said, it was a stupid thing to do and I'm sorry. I meant no harm. I didn't mean to confuse you or upset you, really."

"You're lying and you know it. Tell me, dammit! Why are you doing this?"

I was near breaking point again, feeling physically and emotionally exhausted. I felt my knees starting to give way and the ground suddenly rushed toward me. Strong arms grabbed me by the elbows, lifting me up and carrying me over to nearby chair. I collapsed forward resting my elbows on my knees and feeling the tears come forth once again.

Why? You all know something, why won't you help me? I know you can do something. Please..."

I felt a calloused hand gently caress my arm and I looked up, hoping someone was finally about to talk to me. The look on Jared's face revealed the very opposite.

"I really am sorry Bella, but there is nothing I or the tribe can do. I don't know what else to say..."

"Get your hands off me and stop being so condescending to me. That's bullshit and you know it. You say my grandfather was a friend of your father's and yet you treat me like this? I just need some answers. Something. _Please_."

His eyes drifted to the ground, and it was never more obvious that he was not about to be forthcoming. "Bella, I'm sorry, really I am, but there's nothing I can do. I think it best if you went home now."

"Home... that place is hardly my home. I... I don't feel safe there. It doesn't feel like it's mine."

I wasn't even sure that he was listening at that point. Instead, he was looking intently at one of the men standing nearby. It appeared they were having a silent conversation with their eyes. "Do you want someone to walk you back to your car?"

"No, I think I can manage all by myself," my tone was biting and full of of sarcasm but I didn't care, nor have the inclination to apologize.

I turned and headed toward my car, passing one of the older buildings where a few of the younger kids, mostly teenagers, were congregating. The closer I got, the more hushed their tone became, their eyes darting back and forth between me and the rest of the group. It was obvious I was the subject of their banter. Curious about what they were saying, but not wanting to reveal the knowledge that I knew I was their topic of discussion, I kept my eyes downcast and tried to show no outward sign of interest.

I hadn't heard anything that stood out to me, and as I opened my car door I had all but given up, but then I heard one of the older of the boys mention the "chest" and "crazy lady."

How did they know about the chest? And who was the crazy lady? _Me_? They didn't even know me. I couldn't be who they were referring to. Then again, I had wondered myself if I was turning into a raving psycho, what was to stop them from thinking the same?

I got into the car, slamming the door and jerking the seat belt so hard it caught on the mechanism, refusing to release so I could belt myself in. Cursing as I turned on the engine, I threw the car in reverse and sped out of there, leaving a dust storm in my wake. More tears pooled in my eyes, and I searched for a tissue to wipe them away but only finding a stiff handkerchief, I blotted them away. My eyes irritated from the intrusion of the harsh material, making it difficult to see the road ahead of me.

I sped down the highway back toward Forks. The road was relatively quiet as I only passed by a few cars on the half-hour journey. Alice had been right to encourage me to go down there even if it had been fruitless, but regardless of that, I was able to ascertain that Jared was definitely hiding something. He was aloof and it was obvious he didn't want me there.

As I reached the outskirts of town I passed by the library. Alice's car was parked out the front. What was she doing there? I debated briefly about whether I should go back and tell her how seeing Jared had gone. I quickly surveyed the road for oncoming traffic and spun the car in a U-turn and headed back to the library. I pulled up beside Alice's car and got out to go inside.

I entered the main doors, realizing my quest for her would not necessarily be easy. The main room was quite large with tall shelves situated throughout, making it difficult to see anyone but the patrons nearest to the front door. I passed the check-out desk and worked my way down the main aisle, turning my head in both directions to see if I could catch a glimpse of her spiky black hair along any of the rows. I continued toward the back, passing a few people who were quietly reading novels on the colorful beanbags and couches. A few glanced up at me in passing, but I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact so no one could see my reddened eyes or blotchy face. Finally, as I reached the reference materials and town history section, I saw her. She was sitting at a microfiche reader, her head down in concentration, scribbling furiously on a notepad she had beside her.

Walking up to her, in a hushed voice I asked "Alice, what are you doing here?"

She jumped in her seat before swinging around to face me. "Bella, you scared me. What am I doing here? Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

"I happened to see your car on my way back from the rez and decided to stop in. I know you're not here to satisfy your own literary cravings, so just what do you think you're doing?"

I glanced over at the machine she was working on, but before I had a chance to make out what she was looking at, she turned off the light.

"Well..." she intoned, drawing out the sound of the word with the signature 'I'm up to no good' inflection in her voice,"I've been trying to find out what I can about your house and I came across these news clippings."

I let out a huff of surprise as Alice flicked back on the microfiche light.

"Now, it doesn't mention much, but it does talk about the owners before your granddad. However, the archive is damaged. The names are missing, but it looks like they were torn out. The page is a mess, it almost looks... deliberate. From what has been salvageable, it says that the woman was left alone to live in the house after her husband left her. It goes on to say that she was not seen much after that, never coming into town and only sometimes spotted in her garden.

I bent over Alice's shoulder to look at the screen as she continued. The page was tattered as she had said, almost illegible, but there, next to the article, was a photo of the house, at least what looked like the house. It was definitely the same structure, and had the same house numbers, but it was worn and weathered, its grayed siding and drooping shutters giving off a sense of deep neglect, as if misery had overcome the place.

"I've spoken to the librarian here to see if she has any more articles like this one so I can trace a name, but she was less than helpful. The only other thing I can think of would be to purchase a copy of the Title Deed. I'm guessing you can do that online but I'm not sure." She continued prattling away, the words spewing forth. When she finally finished talking, she took a deep breath then huffed in exhalation. "So tell me, how did it go down at the reservation?"

I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest. "As I suspected but not as I'd hoped. Alice, I don't get it. Jared and everyone else is refusing to speak to me, but it's obvious they know something. It doesn't make sense. He claims to have not meant what he said, which would be acceptable if nothing had happened, but it has. Then as I was walking back to my car I overheard some of the younger kids talking. At first I just thought they were joking around, making fun of the crazy lady that was bawling and making a fool of herself, but then I heard them mention things... things that... well things that they couldn't have known about."

I considered telling Alice about the chest but something told me not to. A feeling deep in my gut. I just knew that I had to keep that bit of information to myself. I'm sure Alice knew I was not being completely forthcoming with her, because her brow furrowed slightly, but I also knew she wouldn't insist on asking me.

"So can we get a photocopy of the article? Even though it doesn't mention names it's got to come in handy."

"I've already asked the librarian to copy it for me. I'm sure she'll be back with it any moment, though I'm wary of her Bella. Not in a creepy way or anything. It's just when I told her what I was looking for she gave me a strange look. I couldn't place it but it was definitely odd and made me feel uncomfortable. Like maybe she knew something but didn't want to say... I don't know. I'm running at the mouth, I should stop."

So far, it seemed everyone but me knew something, and they were refusing to offer up any information. "Well do you think maybe she knows something? Would she be worth asking?"

"You could try, but I don't think she's going to be helpful. Like I said, Bella... she practically gave me the evil eye, and she told me there's nothing in the microfiche or books other than this article. I think this is as much as we're going to get from here. Maybe time to hit up another source?"

"I like your Title Deed idea. Do you think you could look into how to do that? I want to go home to hit Google. There's got to be something there." As I said the word 'home' a shiver ran from my neck down to my lower back and all the way across my arms, making my hair stand on end as though I'd just touched a Tesla coil. It definitely wasn't home right now but I was damned if I was going to let anyone or anything drive me out. I was slowly rebuilding some emotional stability after today's breakdown. I knew I'd still feel be highly anxious about living there, maybe even unsafe, but whatever it was wasn't real. I just had to remind myself that if it wasn't real, it couldn't hurt me.

I was about to approach the main desk to find out where the librarian was when she came toward us with a copy of the article. When she handed it over to Alice, I could swear she gave her a sneer of contempt. I thought she was going to leave without saying a word, but she turned around after a few steps and looked at both of us up and down before again huffing and walking off.

"Well that was rude."

"Yes, well like I said, she's been like that since I first approached her."

We walked toward the front of the library, passing the lady and another younger girl at the welcome desk. I smiled hoping to receive a warmer reception from her this time, but only the young girl returned the compliment.

Exiting the building, Alice handed me the photocopy and pocketed her notebook. I was going to ask what she had taken down but decided against it as I just wanted to get back and make some phone calls before the end of the day. We said our goodbyes and Alice enveloped me in a warm embrace, rubbing my back and telling me that everything would be okay. I asked her not to tell Jasper the details, but rather let him know that I was fine and would call him tonight after I had eaten. The look on her face told me she didn't like keeping things from her husband, but that she would acquiesce and wait until I was ready. We parted ways, and she walked over to her Beetle and left the parking lot, and I followed not far behind her.

**...**

I parked by the side of the house nearest the front door, rather than using the garage as I would normally. It was probably unnecessary but I preferred the idea of knowing my car was close to the front door where I could leave in a hurry if I had to.

Walking in, I dropped my bag by the door and went straight to the living room where my laptop sat on the coffee table. While it booted up, I went into the kitchen to get myself a glass of water. I wasn't really thirsty but it gave me something to do while I waited for my computer to load. I poured my drink, added a slice of lemon and returned to the living area, putting the glass beside the computer. I walked over to my bag to fetch my phone, knowing I'd most likely be needing it very shortly should my research provide what I was hoping it would. Digging around in center compartment, I was unable to find it. I tipped the bag over impatiently just wanting something to go right today. After checking the various pockets to make sure it wasn't there, I had a vague memory that I may have left it in my bedroom the previous afternoon.

The idea of having to go upstairs to my bedroom filled me with dread. I walked over to the stairs, my legs feeling like I had a load of bricks attached to each of them. I took one step at a time, making sure to keep my breathing even. I made it to my bedroom without incident and located my phone on my bedside table. I was positive sleeping in here tonight was not on the cards so I grabbed my pillow and blanket and left the room. Checking my phone, I noticed that I had five missed calls from Jasper and half a dozen text messages. He was obviously very concerned about my absence this morning. I made a mental note to call him shortly and let him know that I was okay... well as okay as could be expected, though he didn't need to know the details. Alice knowing was enough already.

Heading back towards the stairs, I heard it again. The scratching. It was coming from the same room, only it wasn't as loud or constant but more of a Morse code sound. I felt the inherent need to flee but squashed it down. Yes, I was terrified but it wasn't real... or least not real enough to hurt me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued downstairs. The further I got from the room, the more quiet the sound became. I had heard it from downstairs the first time, so I knew it wasn't just that I was distancing myself from it.

This gave me a small degree of comfort, enough to remain in the house. I clutched to my phone and placed the pillow and blanket on the couch then moved over to the table and picked up my laptop. Sitting down, I placed it on my lap and went straight to Google. In the search box I typed "paranormal experts, Seattle;" the number of hits surprising me greatly. I spent a few minutes looking at the suggested sites before coming across one that seemed reputable. I wasn't entirely comfortable with what I was about to do, and I felt as though I had a version of myself sitting on each shoulder; one calling me out saying I was being a fool for falling for this ghost nonsense, and the other urging me to dial the number and speak to someone.

Knowing I had no other other recourse but to call, I dialed the number and waited nervously for someone to answer. My stomach was churning not knowing what I was going to say... I mean, how does one go about sourcing help for ridding their house of something paranormal. Was it haunted? I had no idea. But it was the only thing I could think of. When the phone was finally answered I found myself talking to sweet voice on the other end; certainly not the sort I anticipated when I began the call. She was extremely polite when asking me my purpose for calling. I stuttered numerous times but finally managed to inform her that I thought there was a ghost in my house and what had lead me to that conclusion. At first she 'ummed' and 'ahhed' a lot before putting me on hold. I had my first laugh in many days when I heard the 'Ghostbusters' theme play through the phone. Some might think it was tacky but with everything that had happened in the past few days I gladly saw it as an opportunity to have a little giggle, and it felt really good.

When she returned she asked me for more specific details about what had happened the previous night. When I told her I had heard my name call out to me in a whisper and then how I had seen the man vaporize before me, I heard her gasp and then what sounded like her fingers furiously working away at her keyboard. I had to interrupt her to get her attention again and when I did, she sounded different... distant. She immediately apologized and told me that she didn't think they were going to be able to help. I felt the pit in my stomach growing and my hands clam up, almost dropping the phone. I became upset and anxious, stumbling over my words, not sure why they of all people were refusing to help me. If they couldn't, who would?

She continued to apologize and it seemed she was trying to get me off the phone. I felt tears begin to swim in my eyes, and I blinked repeatedly refusing to let them fall. Composing myself so I could speak coherently I asked her if there was anyone else that could help if she was unable to. Again she put me on hold, only this time the Ghostbusters theme did nothing to brighten my mood.

When she returned, she asked me if I had a pen and paper, and when I replied that I did she gave me the out of state number of some company by the name of Jenks Science and Research. After thanking her and hanging up the phone, I put the notepad down on the table and reached for my glass of water. Taking a slip and allowing the freshness of the cool liquid to flow down my throat, I felt my muscles relax. I sank back in the chair and let my mind rest a moment from all the craziness that had been surrounding me over the past few days. To say it had taken a toll on me was a massive understatement.

After a few minutes of being able to relax without a feeling of consternation or anxiety breathing down my neck, I leaned forward and picked up my phone and notepad, reclining back once again. Dialing the number written on the paper, a lady answered almost immediately. She was polite but gruff, as though I had interrupted something important but she had to put on her best phone voice.

Again feeling rather awkward and having no idea what I was supposed to say to elucidate my issue, I stammered a brief introduction detailing that I had been given this number by a company in Seattle and that I had some "mysterious things" happening in my house. She asked me to repeat my name and where I was from before requesting I hold for a moment while she transferred me to the right person. Unlike my last phone call, the hold music this time was a sedate classical piece. I lost myself in the music, allowing it wash over me like a gentle stream over rocks. I was suddenly pulled from my reverie by an exasperated voice on the other end.

"This is Edward Cullen."

**...**

**I'm thrilled to discover that I've nominated for the Indies. Thank you to those that nominated my story.**

**Bella has really been put through the wringer the last few chapters. A review would help put a smile back on her face. Thank you for reading.**


	7. Mirror Images

**Many thanks to my amazingly generous beta alonelily. She grants me a great deal of her personal time and can't express in words just how much her help and guidance means to me.**

**Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, however the plot is mine.**

**...**

**Mirror Images**

**Bella**

It had been an emotionally draining day. The phone call with Mr Cullen had been... interesting. When he answered he spoke with a tone of disinterest, as though he was too busy to talk to me. I was beginning to feel as though I was bashing my head against a brick wall. He was my last port of call, and as soon as he answered it appeared he had already decided that what I had to say wasn't worth listening to before I'd said it.

With an unsteady voice I asked him to hear me out. I explained some of the more benign things that had been happening over the past few days: the scratching and the old music playing. He agreed with me that these events were common with hauntings, though he remained indifferent as to why I had phoned him, asking me why I was calling him and not an expert nearer to Forks, once I had told him where I was placing the call from.

I explained that I had called someone else first but that they showed a complete lack of interest, citing they weren't equipped to help. I told him that I was referred to his company as it was the best for the job. This didn't seem to appease him, however, and he said that he was still unable to help. He thanked me for calling and began to say to goodbye. Knowing I was running out of options, I blurted out the one thing that I had left to tell him, "There's a man... in my attic."

There was silence on the other end save for a deep intake of breath. "Go on," he told me, and I revealed to him the circumstances surrounding my encounters with this stranger. I told him everything I could, beginning with the night I moved into the house. I explained how I was lured to the attic by a strange sound, and that once there I discovered a disheveled man hiding in the corner. I told him this had happened once more since that night, and both times the man had vanished, the last time being right before my own eyes.

I apologized for not letting him know sooner, but had feared he would think I was some mentally disturbed psycho rather than just your average plain Jane desperately seeking his help.

By the time I finished recounting all the events that had occurred, he had barely uttered a word. His silence set me on edge and I was worried he was about to tell me he would not be able to help. I slumped in the chair and rested my head in my hand, waiting for him to give me the bad news. When he finally spoke, his voice held a measure of patience and poise, though there was still something belying this; he sounded _shocked_?

He asked me a number of questions about my experiences, but I wasn't able to give him much information other than what I had already told him. I explained that I'd never had anything remotely similar happen to me in the past, prior to living in this house. When I told him as much, it was obvious he was empathetic to my plight, but the tone in this voice revealed a continued level of distraction. I could hear papers shuffling in the background and various other muffled noises; it was obvious he was busy and I was clearly taking up important time.

I apologized for not being prepared, which he said was not necessary, though it didn't calm my errant nerves. I was sure he was going to turn down my request for help. He then surprised me by asking for more information on the house itself. I explained that I knew very little of the house prior to my granddad owning it, but that I had come across an old news article which revealed a very small amount of what appeared to be insignificant information about the previous owners.

Mr. Cullen assured me that nothing was insignificant, at least not until he deemed it as such. He asked if it was possible to get him a copy of the article, and I replied that I could fax or email one to him. I explained that the quality of it wasn't the best as the names of the home's original owners were missing and that the librarian where I had sourced the report was of no help. This information didn't seem to please him, however he requested that I send it anyway.

By the end of the conversation, the level of irritation in his voice had lessened, and even though he always polite, he remained distant. I tried to hold off the tears that I felt welling, but was unable to stop a couple spilling down the side of my face. Reaching for the tissues on the coffee table, I took a deep breath, refusing to let my emotions get the better of me. The silence from the other end of the line was all consuming.

I moved the phone slightly out of the way so that I could blow my nose and clear my throat as discreetly as possible without revealing my current state to Mr Cullen. I don't know whether I succeeded, as he did not give any direct sign that he was aware of my crying. I could only imagine the kind of emotional nut-jobs he's had to deal with in his line of work, present company included.

Even though Mr. Cullen had shown fleeting interest in my case, we remained on the phone for some time. He had yet to give me an answer to my request that he investigate my house. I was aware that I was asking a great deal, and I hadn't even inquired about the cost this would incur, and while that was a concern I had to entertain, it was increasingly important that something be done.

We ended the phone call on an undetermined note; he had yet to decide whether he felt my house warranted him leaving his office commitments behind. I understood this, but to say I was disappointed was an understatement. He told me I could expect a phone call regarding his decision after I sent him further details of my house. Until then, Mr. Cullen told me to sit tight and stay as calm as possible - nothing could hurt me unless I allowed it. He finished the call by explaining that if he couldn't help, he would find someone who could. His sage advice was appreciated, though not what I wanted to hear.

Frustrating as it was, I had no choice at this point but to sit and wait, hoping beyond all else that the hauntings would subside.

**...**

It was approaching dinner time when I got off the phone, and I'd not eaten a sufficient meal in days. I went into the kitchen to scrounge around for something I could cook up that was both efficient and healthy. I found some vegetables in the fridge and pantry and decided on making soup. Gathering what I needed, I went over to the sink to peel some carrots and potatoes.

One of the many reasons I had been looking forward to moving into the manor was for the view it offered from the kitchen window. The forest bordering the property was one of picture postcard appeal. Two of my favorites loves, cooking and the scenery of local the area, could be appreciated at the same time.

For the first time since I'd moved in, I allowed my mind to drift away and feel comfortable in my house. The view was particularly stunning with the sun setting in the distance over the thick cover of trees. The field adjoining the picket fence was dotted with Avalanche lilies; the small flowers standing to attention as they climbed the hillside.

I had almost finished peeling the vegetables (the sink was a cacophony of orange and brown) when a slight jostling movement among the discarded peelings caught my eye. Thinking I was seeing things, I continued on without giving it much further thought. When I finished preparing the vegetables moments later, I put down the peeler beside the sink and gathered the remnants of skin in my hands. As I was making my way over to the compost bin I felt an unpleasant tickling in my palm before a large cockroach crawled out from underneath the peelings.

"Fuuuuuuck. Goddammit." I swore so loudly that I was glad I didn't have neighbors nearby because they no doubt would've heard.

I dropped the handful and the roach made a mad dash for the corner of the room. I took off my shoe, knowing it was the only thing I had to kill it. The roach was on the other side of the kitchen, nearest the pantry. I walked to it slowly so it didn't sense my approach and raised my shoe above me, ready to strike. It was one of the largest roaches I had ever seen and I hoped to God I killed it in one hit.

"God, this so disgusting." I stopped a couple of feet away, outstretching my arm and hovering the shoe above it. The roach twitched its antennae and I thought it was about to crawl off again. I raised the shoe higher, hoping for greater leverage before bringing it down in one fell swoop. I looked away, unable to watch what I was doing, hoping I'd aimed true and not caused anything to squirt out from under my shoe. I heard the crunch as the shoe landed on the, insect crushing it, the sound so revolting it made me dry retch.

I turned back to make sure I had killed it. My shoe had landed directly over it and there was nothing leaking out from underneath. I hoped it hadn't ruined my shoe because it was one of my favorites. I lifted it up to survey the damage. The roach was squashed, but still intact, making it easy but still disgusting to remove.

I walked over to the bench and tore off a section of paper towel, folding it numerous times so I was not in close contact. I went back over and covered the roach in the thick wadding before picking it up and taking it outside. I held it as far away from my body as I could, which I knew was typical girl behavior that I generally disliked, but I didn't care. I had just killed a giant motherfucking cockroach. It was disgusting.

I took what was left of the creature over to a far corner of the side yard and threw it away. No way did I ever want its germ-ridden remains in the house. Once back inside, I finished preparing the food and had a glass of wine while the soup was left to simmer; an earthy perfume permeating the room around me signaling that dinner was not far away.

That evening had been the first that I truly allowed myself to put everything out of my mind and relax. It didn't come easy, but I managed to enjoy dinner and spend a couple of hours watching some TV and a movie. It was a welcome distraction, although it didn't cure me of the toll the previous few days had exacted; I still felt physically drained. I'd had little sleep, and what I had managed to get was interrupted or fraught with nightmares. My body and mind craved rest, screaming to be given respite from the tumultuous events surrounding the previous few days. Sleepily, I gathered my few belongings and went to my bedroom.

My bed had been left unmade from my first night in the house, leaving me only to fluff my pillows and pull down my blankets before climbing into bed. My anxiety about being upstairs had abated somewhat, though I remained enough on edge that I felt the need to sleep with my bedside lamp on. I rolled over, facing away from the soft sheen of the light, and cocooned myself in the sheets. I immediately felt comforted and less exposed, and quickly drifted off to sleep.

**...**

He's here. I walk toward him. He's... sad. No, more than sad, he's tortured. So tortured. He's sitting on the floor, his head is buried in his hands. I want to help him, comfort him. I continue walking toward him. The floor creaks. I look down and notice my toenails are painted a deep red and I'm dressed in a cream satin negligee. But the room is so dark. I don't know why I can see everything so clearly. As I reach the man, he looks up at me, his green eyes stunning against the backdrop of dust and gray. He looks at me, really looks at me. A light smile graces his face and a wash of calm bathes us. He extends his arm, beckoning me to take it. I do and he gently pulls me toward him before lowering me to sit on the floor.

His hand is smooth but manly; graceful. His eyes never leave my face, imploring me to _feel _him, feel what he is offering me. He moves closer, shuffling forward, though his movements are fluid. He lifts our joined hands to his lips and places a gentle kiss upon my knuckles. I look down at where our fingers are clasped together and notice I'm shaking. When I look back at him, his eyes look as though they are boring into my very soul. I feel myself relax and he smiles, his eyes aglow, gleaming with an unspoken emotion.

He moves closer. He's on his knees now; his face so close to mine. I look down, unsure of what is happening. I can feel him bury his face in my hair, his warm breath cascading down my neck. My skin prickles, butterflies swarm in my stomach. He unclasps our hands and I immediately feel bereft. His fingers graze my cheek, and I feel as though he's asking me to lean my neck to the side. I do and feel his lips flutter over my shoulder and across my collarbone. The butterflies are going crazy now, and I feel flushed. My entire body itches for more of his silken touch.

His fingers trace my thigh where the negligee stops, and he slowly begins pushing it up my leg. My breath hitches as he brings it up over my hip. I lift my backside up off the floor, giving him leave to lift the silken fabric higher upon my body. I can't take my eyes off of his, the depth and emotion glimmering in them leaves me breathless. His hands slide under the bunched material as he reaches my breasts. He palms one lightly, feeling its weight in his hand. He tenderly teases my nipple, pulling and twisting it. His fingers are cold but soft. My stomach stirs and a heat rushes over my skin. I'm moaning in anticipation of what is to come. He removes his fingers from my nipple and looks directly into my eyes, raising his chin slightly I can tell he is asking me to raise my arms. I do this and he removes my negligee, I watch his eyes as they look upon my body. He appears to like what he sees; the smile and glint evidence of that.

He removes his hand from my breast as he places a hand on my back and slowly lowers me to the floor. I reach out for him, trying to pull him closer to me but he shakes his head, asking me to wait. I stare at him, I can't look away. I need more. My body wants him. My mind wants him. _I want him_. He's looking at me as though he is appraising fine art. I don't feel like fine art but I don't care, I'm impatient and want him to do something... anything.

After what feels like forever, his hands softly stroke the length of my legs; his touch feather light. My body shivers in anticipation. He smirks then lowers himself onto his hands and crawls over my stomach. When his face is level with mine, I feel him drape himself over me. His body molds to mine, every muscle matching perfectly with my own. The heat coursing through me is unbearable now. I've never felt so... aroused. I blush with the realization that I'm turned on by a complete stranger who has been hiding in my attic.

I feel and hear him chuckle - he can tell what I'm feeling. I swallow thickly, sweat beading on my forehead. He lowers his lips towards mine. I can feel the pull between us. An unexplainable magnetic attraction. His lips touch mine. Soft pillows of skin touching skin. He feels divine. I want more.

His lips leave mine and he looks down at me, a smirk gracing the corner of his mouth. I watch him as he slides down my body, his hands lightly caressing my sides as he moves. My heartbeat increases, I can hear it thumping in my ears. I flush with the roiling heat that creeps over my body, culminating at the epicenter between my thighs. He stops moving and I look down at him. His eyes smolder, burning deep into mine. I look away, a feeling of trepidation welling up inside. I feel my cheeks heat from the blush spreading across my face like a wildfire.

His hands glide down my stomach, finding the satin barrier that prevents him reaching what I need him to touch. He grasps the edges of the material and slowly, teasingly begins bringing it down my legs, running the length of them; gentle strokes ghosting from my thighs to my ankles. I look back at him. His eyes are gleaming with want and he licks his lips as if anticipating devouring the most delectable of desserts. I watch as he lowers his head and my stomach flutters in expectation as he plants light kisses on the inside of my thigh. I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head. He takes my hand and tugs on it gently. I open my eyes and look at him. "Eyes open," he commands softly, his voice deep with the timbre of a thousand smoke-filled jazz bars.

He kisses me again, this time repeating the action up the rest of my thigh. He passes over the part of me that is most desperate for him, lightly grazing his nose. I don't mean to, but I gasp loudly, the sound filling the space around us. He stops what he is doing, looking up at me without lifting his head from between my legs. My body shivers at the sight, want and need overtaking every part of me. His eyes, now a fierce deep green, are cloaked by the anarchic fury of his hair.

I lift my hands, needing to grasp him, direct his movements, but a possessive growl emanates from deep within him; he is in control of this. The dominant nature of the action excites me in a way I've never felt before. Being with Embry was never like this. He was inattentive, unsure and fumbling. I never felt the center of his universe. Now, I feel sexy, confident and wanted. I'm aching for him, every part of my body craving his.

I feel his tongue, wet and unyielding, as it traces the part of me that yearns for him. Every pore of my skin is sensitive to his touch. A feather-light tickle stokes the flames of desire hidden deep within. My body involuntarily bucks from the pleasure he is giving, bursting through me causing waves of electricity. A tingling sensation caresses my legs. With every lick and kiss he softly plants on me I feel myself getting closer, falling toward the blissful oblivion that has eluded me for so long. My skin is prickles all over, the heat between us searing my body and soul. My back is arched, every muscle wound so tight I'm almost in pain. I feel like I'm burning from the inside out. The tingling is growing stronger, saturating my every pore. _Wait! _It prickles. No, it itches? I have an sudden, irritating need to scratch. My heartbeat pulses through me, pounding away like a jackhammer breaking up asphalt. I reach up to scratch, but it only makes me itch more. I start to scratch furiously, my nails digging into each and every space. The man is still here, his tongue seeking out my heat, but the itching... _I have to make it stop_...

_M__y skin, I need to tear it off. It moves - get it off me_.

The itching continues, every inch of my skin is burning in irritation. I'm terrified to open my eyes. What is this? _What's happening? _My chest constricts as the the prickling sensation intensifies and I struggle to take in short, panicked breaths. It's everywhere now; my arms, my stomach, my neck. A million pin pricks crawling all over my body. _Make it stop! _I want to scream, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. It's like I'm paralyzed, my throat arid and tense, my neck muscles gripped vice-like and immobile. The prickling works its way to my face now, on my cheeks, beside my nose. I open my eyes reflexively and my eyes dart about the room, and down to my body. The man is gone, but I can see something; just what, I don't know. I want to slap at it, run... but I can't. I'm weighted to the bed, each limb unable to move. I can't move my head, but I manage to look down at myself... and I see them. Hundreds of them. With prickling legs and probing antennae they scuttle over me - cockroaches, crawling all over my skin.

**...**

I sat bolt upright, a piercing scream forcing its way out of me. The room was dark, and I was in bed wrapped in my sheets, drenched in sweat. I flung the covers back and practically fell out of bed, desperate to rid myself of the phantom prickling sensation coursing over my skin. I felt sick and raced to the bathroom, dropping to the floor where I emptied the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

I knelt on the cold floor, purging until I had nothing but traces of bile remaining. My throat was burning and it felt as though the entire lining had been stripped. My knees began to hurt from the uncomfortable position I was in. I managed to stand up, using the vanity to assist me. My knees were tender and a mottled purple was forming, proof of how hard I had landed on the floor. I looked down at my legs and my arms, noticing they were covered in scratches and hives from where I had furiously scratched at the roaches.

Turning on the faucet, I cupped my hands and drank greedily, desperate to soothe the ache in my throat. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I noted the pallor of my skin and splashed myself with water on my face. I felt clammy and dehydrated and needed something more than water to quench my deep thirst. I walked back to the bedroom and changed out of the clothes I had been too tired to change before bed. I put on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt, welcoming the warmth they provided as I tried to quell the resultant shivers from my purging.

There was no way I would be getting any more sleep tonight. I decided to go downstairs, hoping in the very least I could find some some sort of relaxation by the fire. Before I left my bedroom, I grabbed my pillow and throw blanket from the end of the bed. I made it downstairs though my legs felt weak and my stomach was in knots.

I draped my throw over my favorite chair and propped my pillow against the back of the chair. The log fire had died down, leaving a distinct chill in the air. There were a few small logs sitting adjacent to the fireplace, just enough to stoke the flames and provide ample heat to make the downstairs comfortable. I gathered them up and carefully knelt in front of the fireplace, placing them deep into the cavity.

The crackling of the flames as they licked against the logs offered a calming, almost hypnotic atmosphere in the otherwise muted light of the room. I walked back over to the chair and sat down, wrapping the blanket around me, tucking it down the sides of the cushion to keep me as warm as possible. I sat there looking deep into the flames, watching the yellow and orange tips dance skyward as they cast off the occasional spark.

Desperate for sleep but unable to find any, I decided to try and get a little bit of writing done. I hadn't written anything since the first evening in the house, and knowing how calm and relaxed I felt, I figured it had to be a good idea, and hopefully I would be able to expel some of the pent up emotions and stress of the past few days. Remembering that I had left my notebook in my bedroom, I left the warmth of the living room to go upstairs.

When I entered my room I noticed my bedsheets were in a complete mess, tangled and strewn about the bed. Images of the dream flashed through my mind, the itching and the scratching, hearing myself scream, cockroaches crawling all over my skin. I shook my head trying to snap out of it, the action making me feel momentarily dizzy and ill. I stood still in an effort to regain my equilibrium, but needing to be out of this room because its effect on me was leaving me distressed and anxious. I slowly made my way around the foot of the bed to my bedside table and picked up my notebook and pen, before turning back around leaving the room.

I passed by the room that was the cause of the scratching noises. I hadn't heard any more since before I made the phone call earlier today. Curiosity gripped me; I felt drawn to the door. Advancing toward it cautiously, my stomach was in knots. As I grasped my free hand around the antique brass door handle a current of electricity zapped through me. Momentarily startled, I removed my hand, stretching it out relieving it of the shock that had coursed through it. Deciding that was some kind of intervention warning me not to enter the room, I retreated and walked back downstairs.

When I returned to the living room, I sat down in my chair and relaxed in front of fire, letting the calm it offered wash over me. The clock on the mantelpiece read four-twenty a.m. Never before the past few days had I been regularly awake at such an early hour. My body was really beginning to feel the effects of this and I needed resolution quickly. I resolved to call Mr. Cullen first thing in the morning if he didn't call me first.

Picking up my pen, I opened my notebook and let my mind drift away to thoughts of green eyes and a warm smile.

**...**

**Edward**

I sat at my desk and listened to what the lady on the other end had to say. Her voice was sweet and polite though heavily laced with the obvious upset and desperation presiding over her reason to call. She spoke about the events that had been taking place, mentioning erratic scratching noises and old music spontaneously playing that no one in the house heard except for herself.

All of these occurrences seemed to indicate a possible haunting as was her belief. However, they were not enough to convince me to take time away from the office to fly to some small blink-and-you'll-miss-it town in Washington state. When I mentioned this to her, albeit in a more diplomatic way, I heard her exhale audibly and I think, sob quietly. This was not uncommon as most people who resorted to call me, particularly females, were obviously emotionally affected by what they were experiencing.

Truth be told, I wanted nothing more than to rid myself of this call. I had mounds of work I still needed to tackle, and was still very much reeling from the aftershocks of my own experiences to want to deal with something so mundane as a routine "haunting." _Sounds like a TAPS case if I ever heard one_ I even chuckled to myself. I tried being as diplomatic as possible, but I'm certain she sensed my irritation. This just wasn't what I needed to be doing at this time.

I had all but declined the case and was about to hang up when she caught me completely off-guard.

_"Wait!" _she said, pleading with me, I could hear the desperation in her voice. _"There's one more thing."_

She let out an audible sigh before continuing.

_"There's a man. I... I don't know him. I've seen him. Twice, now. He's in my attic."_

I was silent on the line as I allowed her words to sink in. Something about this immediately piqued my interest, and my heart sputtered at this sudden revelation.

_"I know this must sound crazy and you must think I'm some whacked-out lunatic or cat lady or someone who has nothing better to do than make up stories about some strange things going on in my house, but, it was just... so _real_. So... palpable. I could see him. Feel him. He was..."_

She stopped, breathless. It was obvious this was causing her distress.

I had to quell my own unease now. The more she continued, the more a feeling of dread crept over me and I wasn't sure I wanted to know where this was going.

_"... he was just sitting there, the first time in one corner, the next time over by this antique trunk, and he was hunched over, nearly naked and just... his face," _she said, muffling a sob. _"It was like he was screaming, but I couldn't hear a sound. I wanted... I wanted to help him so badly, so I reached out to him, but then..."_

She was near hysterics now and I could hear her sobbing, her anguish evident even from two thousand five hundred miles away. I wracked my mind over what she had just said, the words becoming more and more clear to me. I rubbed at my eyes with the heel of my hands, trying like hell to think through this logically. But somehow I knew deep in my gut exactly what her next words would be...

_"... he just disappeared."_

I almost dropped the phone from the shock of what she was relaying to me. Her experiences were practically a carbon copy of my own dreams, though in mine I had seen a woman in an unfamiliar room whereas she had seen a man in her attic. I sat there with the phone to my ear, unable to speak, frozen to my chair.

My mind was reeling, my heart racing with her latest revelation. It fit, somehow it all fit together. _Was it possible?_ This voice on the other end of the line, _was it her?_

How could we be having almost the same experience?

When I found my ability to speak once more, I asked her whether she could expand on her experiences so I could better understand what might be happening. And if they further correlated to my own. Managing to keep my wits about me, I told her I needed to get as much information as possible before making a final decision on her case, although I knew fully well I'd likely be booking a flight to Forks, Washington within the next few days.

What details she did have were sparse, with the exception of a newspaper article she said she'd found about the property. She told me it was a deceased estate, left to her by her grandfather, and to her knowledge he had never experienced anything in the thirty or more years he and his wife had lived there. She told me that she had a copy of the article, though the condition left something to be desired, and that the names of the owners were missing.

I asked her if it was at all possible for her to get a copy of the article to me. While it would've have been advantageous for the article to be in better condition, realistically I had to have anticipated that something nearing fifty years old would be tattered. I knew that unless the remaining article was beyond legible, we had a department that had had success in repairing aged articles and books, making them once more intelligible.

It was approaching six p.m. when we finally ended the call. I told her that while I could not give her an answer today, I needed her to send me the article and anything else that she thought relevant. There was no way I could commit to a job out of state without more information than I would usually request. And with that I needed to give some serious thought to the revelation that her experiences mirrored mine.

In truth, I just needed to get up and clear my head, try to create some semblance of reason out of the mass of information I had just heard. The man. The attic. The chest. The disappearance. Images from my own experiences kept pounding into my head at a jack-hammer pace. No matter what I did to push them aside, there they were, strobe-like flashes of a time spent somewhere unknown, yet oddly familiar. They were all the same. All I could see when I closed my eyes was that room, that darkened room, and the one shining light that seemed to keep me grounded there. _Her._

Too restless to think logically about the afternoon's events, I packed up my laptop and walked out of the office, not bothering to organize the journal articles and other paperwork that was still piled atop my desk. They'd still be there tomorrow. Not quite ready to head to the confines of my home, I headed out and drove to Swig Martini Bar, a favorite local joint, where I could cleanse my thoughts with a few glasses of a relaxing alcoholic beverage. The tension that was roiling through my body eased immediately as soon as the liquid hit my tongue, providing a welcome salve to the agitation that had invaded every corner of my mind.

I tried to focus my thoughts on the facts in front of me, scattered though they were. Yet when I tried to piece them together, nothing made sense. It was like there was a missing link somewhere, some piece to this growing enigma, that when I found it, would lock everything together in a logical fashion. But the more I strove to get to the bottom of things, the more convoluted they seemed. I could deal with the woman's reports of scratching and disjointed voices - there were typically very reasonable explanations for those kind of occurrences. I could even try to reason out the idea that she had experienced some kind of stress-induced hallucination. But, what I could not decipher, not in the least, was how my own experiences were but a mirror of hers. The scientist in me rebuked the very idea that these occurrences were connected, yet some deeper part of me knew, intrinsically, that they were one in the same. And for the first time in my career, hell, in my life, I realized I might just be facing a mystery I could not solve.

As I finished my tequila, I decided I'd have enough on my plate for the upcoming weeks, with two new assistants to train and taking over some of Rosalie and Emmett's workload. This case would simply have to wait. While I certainly didn't want to dismiss this woman's claims, it just wasn't a case I could tackle at present, even with the strange mirrored experiences. In the least I could have one of my assistants look into it further once they got on board.

Decision made, I headed for home, somewhat relaxed and ready to let sleep take me in. I lumbered into my apartment, plunked the laptop on my desk and decided to check my email one last time before I went to bed. The usual spam popped up on my screen, along with some interesting articles and other information from the National Parapsychological Association. An international convention was coming up in Paris later this year, and the thought of escaping the sun-baked climes of San Antonio and heading for the City of Lights held a distinct romantic appeal at present. Not that I had any room for romance. Simply, the rich history and grandeur of France had always appealed to me, and the opportunity to go - especially for professional purposes - just might provide that much needed break I was looking for.

I was just about to shut down the computer for the night when I heard the distinct "ting" alerting me to another incoming email. I looked up at the screen and saw the sender, hesitating to open the email, knowing it would again open up that Pandora's box of questions without answers, but something just ...

To: E Cullen - Jenks Science and Research

From: B Swan

Subject: Article and Photograph

_Mr. Cullen,_

_Thank you again for taking time to speak to me today. Per our conversation, I have attached a copy of the article we discussed. As noted earlier, I don't know why the names were crossed out. We tried asking the librarian, but she was hardly open to suggesting any alternatives. I suppose mysteries don't play well around here. I __certainly hope you will be able to assist me with this matter. At this point, I don't know where else to turn. Looking forward to hearing from you soon._

_Most sincerely,_

_Bella Swan_

_(360) 555-3907_

The message was simple, yet I couldn't help but notice the soft pleading tone. As much as I wanted to push this whole matter aside, a part of me very much wanted to help her.

I clicked on the attachment, hoping the article would give me further insight, but stopped as soon as it was open. I didn't even register the words that were written there. All I could focus on was the house; a white, two-story panel-sided with bungalow porch and distinct attic dormer. I knew the design like the back of my hand; 1940's Arts and Crafts - just like Carlisle and Esme's, just like the wallpaper.

I looked at my watch; eight fifty-seven p.m., which meant six fifty-seven Washington time. Could I, should I call now? As much as I wanted to wait until tomorrow, to take my time and let reason calm me once again, I knew now I didn't have a choice. I couldn't wait any longer. I picked up my phone and nearly dropped it as I dialed the number.

Waiting for Ms. Swan to answer on the other end, I tapped my fingers impatiently on the desk. When it became apparent she was not going to answer, I ended the call. Displeased that I could not get through to her tonight rather than having to wait until morning, I made myself a belated dinner and sat down to watch some TV in the hopes I could sufficiently distract myself until it was a reasonable time to go to sleep.

I channel surfed for the remainder of the evening, not finding anything worth my attention.

Sleep was usually something I cherished, but with the strange dreams I'd been having of late, I'd woken up more tired than I had felt prior to going to bed. I needed to get this situation sorted, because my job was incredibly important to me and required my full attention at all times. With the way things had been the past few days, I was not able to commit to that.

Sighing in defeat, I switched off the TV and made my way to my bedroom to change out of my workday attire. It was slightly colder tonight than previous nights, so I slipped on some pajama bottoms and climbed into bed. Despite having a large bed, I always slept on the left-hand side. The right had not been occupied in some time. I'd had fleeting romances with women over the past couple of years, but had not been in a long term relationship since I graduated with my degree. My college girlfriend and I parted on amicable terms, agreeing that our relationship had run its course and we were headed in different directions, both personally and professionally.

The idea of having someone in my life again was something I did want, but I was in no rush to seek it out. My mother had not so innocently pointed that out numerous times in the past few months, but she knew that I was married to my job at this point in my life and I was quite happy with the status quo.

I lay in bed, wary of falling asleep and having another dream. I stared up at the ceiling, finding little imperfections that I had not seen before. After making a mental list of a number of tiny bumps and marks, I looked over at the clock and noted it was one forty-seven a.m. Resigned to the fact that I had no choice, I reached over to my bedside table and opened the drawer. Taking out a packet of sleeping tablets, I took one out and placed it at the back of my mouth, before swallowing a mouthful of water.

I wasn't pleased that I had to resort to taking a tablet, I'd only had them prescribed to me because I'd had trouble sleeping after an illness earlier in this year.

I lay back down and wrapped my sheets around me, knowing it wouldn't prevent any unnerving dreams, but hopeful it would all the same. Sleep came not long after.

**...**

I woke in the morning, feeling lighter than I had in some time, not feeling the physical burden of a disturbed sleep. Propping my pillows against the headboard, I sat up and took in the time, noting I was running late for work. Annoyed that the tablets had caused me to sleep in, I called Rosalie and let her know that I would be late for work and to pass it onto Jenks.

Eager to make the next phone call and to begin preparing what I needed, I dialed Ms. Swan's number hoping that it wasn't too early to be phoning. I was nervous about the outcome that would accompany this decision and again waited anxiously for her to pick up.

A soft, gentle voice answered after the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Swan?"

"This is she."

"This is Edward Cullen. I'll take your case."

**...**

**Formatting for emails on this site is a bitch. I wanted to give a traditional email appearance but unfortunately it was just not possible.  
**

**Reviews are wonderful and inspire me to write.**

**Thank you for reading.**


	8. At First Sight

**My beta alonelily is simply the bomb. None of this would be as pretty as it is without her encouragement and hand holding. **

**Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, however the plot is all mine.  
**

**...**

**At First Sight**

**Edward **

I'd been on the road two and half hours and according to the map I'd purchased at the airport, I was about an hour out of Forks. The drive had been relatively quiet with hardly anyone on the road, leaving me with too much time to mull over the possibilities of what I was about to encounter.

From the photos I had been forwarded, I was aware that the house Ms. Swan occupied was from an era that matched that of the wallpaper. Glancing over to the passenger seat, I opened the expanding file I had with me, and with my free hand removed the decorated wall adornment. Without anything to base my belief on, I couldn't be certain but I had a strong feeling that I might find this wallpaper inside Ms. Swan's house.

The prospect of that both confused and distressed me. How could I end up in possession of something that was simultaneously located in a house over two thousand miles away? And did it also mean that the skeleton key was somehow inextricably linked to this house. I couldn't help but think the answer to that question was also of the affirmative.

What could I possibly have to do with this house? Why was I being targeted prior to even being contacted by Ms. Swan?

Nothing made any sense. I'd seen and heard of many strange things before this but nothing came close to the way this made me feel; inherently connected in some unexplainable way.

I'd always been the person people came to to solve their hauntings and other various paranormal experiences, but now I was needing help as much as Ms. Swan was, and that scared me more than anything else ever had.

The three days between taking on this investigation and leaving San Antonio dragged by incredibly slowly. I had spoken to Rosalie and Emmett and they were both very encouraging, agreeing with me that I needed some time away from the office. I didn't go into details with them about why I felt so compelled to take on this case, but they knew it to be something I felt I needed to do.

The two assistants Jenks had hired were more than capable of overseeing my workload until I returned, which was a weight off my mind. However, I didn't think anything could have prevented me from taking on this job.

More than the concern about my job, Ms. Swan's house and the wallpaper remnant possibly being connected, was the intense fear that came with what she had claimed to have seen. If my fears were correct, we were both having the same experiences. Images of the house and memories of my dreams were constantly assaulting my thoughts; the gentle calming smile of a brunette offering me solace and a dark musty room swimming in dust.

How was it that we were sharing the same experiences? Was it possible that I was teleporting just as the letter I'd received mentioning the Philadelphia Experiment purported? The paranormal was my game, but this just seemed too far fetched. And if this was indeed the case, why me? Why was I being singled out as the subject of an experiment?

I was growing exponentially more nervous as I got closer to Forks. With each passing mile the questions bombarding my mind left me feeling more and more uncertain about what I was walking into.

I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind so I could focus on the drive, but simply wasn't able to prevent them creeping back in and taking hold of me. I turned on the radio in the hopes that some music might sufficiently but safely distract me. After a few moments searching the FM band I came across a station that was clear enough to listen to.

Turning up the volume I heard the opening strains of a song I remembered my father singing to my mother many times when I was growing up.

_You must remember this_

_A kiss is just a kiss_

_A sigh is just a sigh_

_As time goes by_

I found myself quietly singing along to the words, thinking back on my childhood when everything made sense and I wasn't in the thick of some bizarre nightmare.

By the time the song came to a close, I had just passed the _Welcome to Forks_ sign. I pulled the car over to the side of the road and got out my map and the directions Ms. Swan had given me. After discovering the best way to get to the property, my nervousness was reaching peak levels and I sat there unable to continue the remainder of the short journey.

Knowing that I was only a few short minutes away from finally having some answers to the questions plaguing me, I put aside the the feelings of overwhelming anxiety, took a few sips of the bottled water beside me, and pulled back out onto the road.

With Forks being so small I found the road leading to the property quite easily. It was a lovely tree-lined road, dense greenery bordering the the beginnings of the forest. It was clear that this would be a quiet, peaceful place to live, a welcome change from the hectic day-to-day grind of living in a busy city. Images of myself living in place like Forks bombarded me as I made the drive toward the house. I had not been in the town more than fifteen minutes and already I felt a strong grounding bond to the place.

Gray storm clouds were rolling in bringing a slight drizzle that dotted the windscreen hampering my view of the road. I turned on the windshield wipers to clear my field of vision, and as I did, a grand old bungalow style house came into my view. From the road I could not see the entire house as it was partially hindered by a majestic tree in the front yard, but it was obvious that a place like this would be the pride and joy of any family.

As I turned into the driveway I could hear the crunch of gravel under the tires; an embracing homey sound as I made my way toward the house. I pulled up directly out the front and turned the engine off, staying seated for a few moments as I gathered myself before stepping out to make my way to the front door.

Taking a couple of deep cleansing breaths, I surveyed the area around me, taking in the scenery. The garden was a colorful mass of newly planted flowers and shrubbery. The perfume floating off the nearby rained-on lawn was fresh and crisp, awakening my senses after the long drive from Seattle.

As much as I wanted to walk right up to the front door and announce my arrival, I was feeling overwhelmed by the reality of the situation. I needed a few moments to calm myself before I entered the house and embarked on what I felt could be a potentially life-altering investigation.

Walking over to the garden, I noticed that a large portion of the flowers had just been planted. A large tree was the focal point of the yard, standing proudly in the center offering protection from the elements to the garden bed beneath it. A tire swing had been secured to one of the largest branches, instantly reminding me of a similar one that I used to play on when I was a child.

Looking at the flowers bordering the tree, I noticed that I was aware of some of their names. I wasn't hugely knowledgeable on flora with the exception of the favorites of my mother and some that I liked myself. I kneeled down and gently ran my fingers across the petals of the forget-me-nots that graced the area, the striking blue reminding me of a clear sky back home.

I began to feel to feel the dampness of the rained-on grass seep through my pants and realized I'd been out here too long. Ms Swan had probably noticed me out in the front yard and was wondering why the hell I hadn't knocked yet.

I stood up and dusted the dirt and grass off of my knees and proceeded to walk toward the porch. I could see into the foyer from a window beside the door, the area appeared light and open – much as I expected from a house of this style.

Raising my hand, I knocked on the door and stepped back, straightening my posture and taking a deep breath.

After a few short moments I heard someone walking toward it.

"Who's there?" I was momentarily surprised; the voice sounded oddly familiar but I couldn't place why. There was no reason to for it to be recognizable given that we had never met. Knowing Ms. Swan was waiting for my response, I cleared my throat and answered.

I heard her unlock the door and it creaked a little as it was pulled open. I looked over myself once more briefly to make sure my clothes were presentable and not dirty.

Satisfied that my pants were clean I looked back up and everything around me instantly faded away. All I could see in front of me was flawless porcelain skin, flowing brown hair and penetrating brown eyes.

_Her._

And then she slammed the door shut.

**...**

**Bella**

_Him!_

This wasn't happening. _This was not happening!_

He was standing outside my door, on my porch. What was he doing here and why did he say he was Mr. Cullen? He couldn't be, not when he was in my attic, practically naked, lost and broken less than a week ago.

It was too much. I turned around against the door and slumped down unable to remain standing. The image of him on the other side of the door had burned into my retinas. He was really there, in neat suit pants and jacket, his hair was no longer the same reddish disarray, but all I could see was the dirty pitiful man rocking on the floor of my attic.

I didn't know what to do. The irrational part of me was warring with the sensible side because I wasn't scared of him when I found him upstairs, but on the porch, I was terrified. I slammed the door in his face and collapsed in a heap.

I couldn't breathe and my lungs were burning. My thoughts were haywire. I didn't know what to do.

I tried to stand, unsure of where I was going, but as I made it to my feet he knocked at the door again and called my name. A piercing scream ripped from me as I was jolted back to reality. Covering my mouth to muffle the noise as much as possible, I crept into the living room as quietly as I could, afraid he would be able to hear where I was going.

Walking over to where my phone was sitting on the coffee table, I picked it up and scrolled through my contacts before pressing. It rang four times before the cheery voice of Alice answered.

"Hi Bella."

"Aaaalice, he-he's here," I managed to get out while stumbling over my frantic words.

"Who's there hun? You have to speak up, I can't hear you all that well."

"The-the man. The one I told you about. The one from the attic. He's at my front door." My throat was parched and I wasn't able to speak beyond a croaky whisper.

"What do you mean he's there? What's he doing? Really Bella, I can't understand you. You're not making any sense."

Clearing my throat, I managed to speak more clearly.

"He knocked at the door and said his name was Mr. Cullen, here to handle the investigation. He's standing out on my porch right now. I slammed the door in his face. I didn't know what to do so I called you."

"And he's still out here?"

I walked over to the window and discreetly pushed the drape aside to get a look outside.

"Um, yeah. He's pacing in front of his car."

"Okay, stay there. Don't open the door. I'm coming over."

_Oh thank God._

"Thank you Alice. Please get here quick. And be careful, I don't know if he's dangerous or not."

"I'm on my way." The phone called ended and I put it down on the table, glancing back outside. He was still pacing back and forth. He looked up at the window I was standing in front of and I caught his eye briefly before gasping and quickly stepping aside behind the curtain. I tried to stay out of sight, obscuring myself with the drapes, but I was pretty certain that he had caught a glimpse of me.

My knees were feeling weak and I made my way over to the couch and sat down before I collapsed, hoping I could wait there until Alice arrived. As I sat back, I heard a creaking noise from outside coming from the direction of the door. My heart rate increased and I could hear it pulsing in my ears. My palms began to sweat and I could taste something metallic in my mouth. Realizing it was blood and that I was biting the inside of my lip, I let go but the feeling of panic roiling in my stomach did not abate.

"Ms. Swan. Ms. Swan, I know you're there. Can you please open the door. We need to talk, I've flown all the way out here. Please."

I couldn't listen to this. He was tricking me or something. I didn't know how, but this was wrong! He couldn't be Mr. Cullen. He simply couldn't.

Standing slowly from the couch I made my way over to the stairs and went up to my bedroom to wait for Alice. She would bring Jasper's spare key and let herself in.

I sat on the edge of the bed nervously wringing my hands and chewing on my lip. Images of opening the door and seeing the man looking back at me were running through my mind. He was standing there waiting to be let inside, dressed impeccably before morphing into the man from the attic; disheveled and talking nonsense, his eyes striking but vacant. He came at me, grabbing hold of my arm and painfully twisting it; keeping me close and unable to break free, his eyes boring deep into mine. I screamed and then he was back to the professionally dressed man on the porch, waiting with questioning eyes for me to let him inside.

Hesitantly I walked out of my room and over to the window facing out onto the front garden. I could see him from my vantage point sitting in his car.

_Why wouldn't he just leave?_

I stood there hoping that Alice would arrive, but it became clear after a few minutes that wasn't going to happen, much like waiting for a kettle to boil while watching it. Turning back, I went into my room and continued to wait. I didn't feel the same level of terror when I wasn't able to see him, though the anxiety churning inside did not ease. I felt clammy and nauseated and went into the bathroom to splash some water on my face.

I thought I could hear Alice's voice coming from outside through my ensuite window and went back out to the window where I could see my garden. Alice was there talking to him.

The conversation appeared to be serious but I couldn't hear their voices from where I stood so I made my way downstairs and went over to the living room window, gently easing it open in the hope neither of them heard me.

"I am Edward Cullen. Let me show you my license," his voice was at times hard to hear but I could make out that much.

I watched him as he removed something from his wallet and handed it to Alice. She seem mollified by whatever she had seen and continued to speak with him. For someone with a normally chirpy and bright disposition she was exceptionally hard to hear at this point.

Alice then nodded and began walking toward the porch. I stepped back from the window and walked toward the front door. I heard her put the key in the lock and turn the handle. As the door began to open, I stepped against it, using my body to prevent it from further opening.

"Is he with you?" I had to make sure she came inside alone.

"I'm alone. Well I mean he's still here but he's by his car. He didn't follow me. I can see him."

I stepped back slowly and let Alice enter. When she was completely inside I quickly closed the door, not caring that it slammed shut reverberating around the foyer.

Noticing something in her hands, I asked Alice what she had and she handed me a small card. Turning it over I saw _him_. His driver's license. I read the name on the card and saw that he was indeed Edward Cullen, born June 20, 1980 from San Antonio, Texas.

I could hear a indistinct voice somewhere nearby but my ears were ringing and I couldn't make sense of where I was.

"Be... Bella. Oh my God, are... alright?"

I tried clearing my ears with my fingers but the ringing persisted. My body felt weighted down by lead and my head was thumping; a staccato rhythm beating down on my forehead.

Something cold and soft was placed across my face and I held my hand over it while I tried to sit up.

"Just stay there, don't try to move. You fainted Bella."

I fainted_._ I'd _never_ fainted before... ever. What was going on?

I could feel something hard and plastic in my hand and I moved it up to look at what it was. From the back I couldn't make it out so I flipped it over and was hit with the image of _him _again and then I remembered seeing this moments before I collapsed.

It was him. It was true. He really _was _Edward Cullen.

As I moved to sit up, Alice knelt down to help me. It was then that I noticed the front door was wide open and standing beside it was Edward. My eyes locked on his and I felt myself being pulled toward him; drawn in by his transfixing gaze. A heated blush crept up my neck toward my face as images of him lying atop me, kissing my neck, caressing and pleasuring my body flooded my mind.

Mentally berating myself for choosing now of all times to recall that, I shook my head and tried to stand. With Alice holding onto my arm to keep me steady she turned me around and helped me over to the couch.

"But, Edward," I whispered, hoping that I was quiet enough that he couldn't hear me mention his name. "What do I do? He's here now and I need his help. God, Alice. This is... I don't know. This is too much. I don't even know where to begin." Folding into myself, I let my head fall into my hands and I rubbed forcefully against my forehead, hoping to find some kind of solution.

"Bella, I don't know what all this means and I've not spoken much with Edward, but from what I gathered he seemed to be pretty shocked by the turn of events here too. I don't know why, he wasn't forthcoming with me, but I think you need to let this play out and see what happens. Something in my gut tells me this is all happening for a reason. I know that sounds trite but it's the only advice I can offer. And really, what other option do you have?

I knew she was right but I didn't like the unanswered questions surrounding this latest turn of events.

_Why was he here?_

_Why did he look at me like he knew me and why did I feel compelled to go to him?_

Twisting in my seat, I looked back toward the door where Edward was standing, patiently waiting for direction on what was expected of him. I opened my mouth to speak, needing to talk to him, to hear his voice, but nothing came out. Swallowing to clear the nervous blockage I looked to Alice to help convey with my eyes that I needed her to speak to him for me. She nodded in understanding, then turned in his direction and told him that it was okay for him to come inside.

He closed the door and walked a few steps closer just shy of entering the living room.

I watched him as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply waiting anxiously to see what he might say or do next. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it just as quickly, appearing to change his mind at the last moment.

I looked down at the cushions needing something to break my stare from the man before me.

"I think I'll just go up to the attic and look around." His voice was a little shaky and he seemed unsure of himself.

_Well that would be two of us. _

By the time I looked back up all I could see was his back as he turned and left the room heading for the stairs.

**...**

**While this chapter was short compared to more recent ones, the story is about to kick up a whole other gear. Things will get mysterious, creepy, and suspenseful. Expect the unexpected, because I'm about to throw down the gauntlet.**

** Thank you to the all the readers that have been there from the beginning and to those joining as this progresses. Your reviews and thoughts help make me a better writer and give you something I'm proud of. This story, in spite of it's unconventional theme is quite personal to me and I hope that comes across. **


	9. Uncharted Ground

**So Mysteriousward/Hauntedward is back again. Thank you all for being patient in waiting for this update. I hope to not have such a large amount of time pass between future chapters. **

**alonelily and bellalove72 are invaluable in helping me structure this in the best way possible.**

**Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, however the plot is all mine. I'm just having fun messing with her beloved characters and fucking with your heads.**

**...**

**Uncharted Ground**

**Edward**

After I left Ms. Swan and her friend, who introduced herself as Alice Hale, and made my way upstairs, time seemed to dramatically slow. I felt as though I was running out of battery power and my feet were dragging along behind the rest of my body as I trudged up the stairs. My mind however, was racing.

I couldn't get past the shock of seeing Ms. Swan, at the door. This woman that was so familiar to me, the same one I had seen in my dreams; my _Juliet; my sun, _comforting and protecting me. I was positive of it. But how? I had never been a believer in precognition. It went against my core beliefs and was a subject I had publicly refuted in many dissertations and journals.

And her reaction. The terror in her eyes, the way her skin had a hopeful flush from racing to the door, to a sick, almost deathly pale instantly. She was as stupefied as I was to see her. This confirmed my concerns that something had inexplicably drawn us together beyond the realm of my dreams.

I took a brief look around the first floor before heading up to the attic and noticed that all the doors were shut except for the one leading into Ms. Swan's bedroom. I wasn't going to enter it without her permission, but my curiosity got the better of me. There had to be something that stood out about this woman that would provide some answers as to what brought me here. As I doubted she was able to provide them, I walked over to her door and took a look inside.

Nothing seemed out the ordinary to me. Her bed was made and there were no clothes lying about. The room was feminine but understated. The walls were a neutral color and the furniture was classically modern. There was absolutely nothing that I could see that answered any of my burning questions.

As I turned around to make my way to the stairwell door at the end of the hallway, I noticed a room on the left. Its door was closed like the others, but as I approached, I felt an inexplicable pull toward it. My body started to heat and my skin prickle. The closer I got, the more I was overcome with a feeling of need. Desperate aching need. Reaching out for the doorknob, I could hear a faint voice in the background that seemed to be getting closer.

Just as I grasped the handle, a bolt of searing heat ran up my arm. It wasn't painful or uncomfortable, but the feeling of need growing inside me was near tangible. Yearning for something...

"Excuse me, the attic is that way," the voice startled me and I dropped my hand to my side, the painfully bitter and aggressive emotion instantly disappearing. Turning around, I took in Alice's face, looking across the landing at me; her eyebrows raised, arms across her chest. Her assertive stance left me feeling like a misbehaved child.

"I- Yes. I'm sorry. I was on my way there, I wanted to check the rooms out but since all the doors are closed, I'll do that another time. Excuse me." I left Alice standing at the top of the stairs and made my way to the end of the hall and opened the door leading up to the attic.

Each step brought me closer to the room I was there to investigate, and as I got nearer, the feeling of apprehension surging through my veins peaked. After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the top of the stairs and peeked in to this room that had haunted my dreams. It was just as I had remembered, but in the afternoon, was bathed by a hint of late afternoon sun seeping in through the window at the end of room, and I could make out some of my surroundings.

The area to my left was bare save for some boxes piled atop one another and something that appeared to be a chair covered by a white sheet. Hesitantly taking a step into the room, I noticed ahead of me a series of paintings partially uncovered by a sheet that were stacked against the wall. I advanced toward the collection and removed the sheet, creating a hazy swirl of dust that left me coughing painfully as my throat seized up from inhaling the disturbed air.

Without having my inhaler to help me regain control of my breathing, I was forced to step back and away from the dust until it settled. From where I stood a number of feet away, I couldn't help but think that the front portrait was staring at me. And not just in that way that all paintings do when you move around a room, but instead really looking and connecting with me on a deeper level. I took a step closer to get a better look at it. It was a black and white portrait of a couple. The man was facing the woman with his arms draped gently around her, in a protective but loving hold. The woman was gazing into the distance with a tender and loving look gracing her dainty features. Looking at it closely, there was something about it that seemed familiar to me, as though I had seen it somewhere else.

It appeared to be from the 1930s or 40s perhaps. The man was wearing a Fedora style hat and a smart suit. The woman appeared to be in some kind of long-sleeved suit jacket or possibly coat. Her neck was adorned with a string of pearls. The picture had the feel like that of the classics of the Golden Age of Hollywood. I wracked my brain trying to place its familiarity but came up empty. I made a mental note to do a search in the hopes I might turn something up.

As I stepped back from the paintings, something to my right caught my attention. Moving closer, I discovered an old, ornate chest. I noted it was not against the wall which I thought strange but that gave me the opportunity to walk completely around it. Lowering my hand to feel the magnificence of such a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, I was frozen in place hearing the quiet emollient, yet mournful voice of a woman singing:

"Hush little baby,

Don't say a word,

Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird"

That song! I knew it. But why? Memories of recent days flashed through my mind. Waking up from my dreams, I remembered feeling heavy and anxious. Rosalie running into me in the hallway at work. That was it! She had caught me humming this song. A song I hardly knew, but when humming it, I strangely knew every word and the melody perfectly. And now, hearing it again in this room, the room that I was positive I had been to in my dreams. With my hand on the top of the chest, strong currents of pain and grief carried up my arm like currents of electricity. Feelings of desperation and loneliness pervaded my every pore. Such intense hurt and sadness. Something about it felt so intimate, so personal and so intrinsically connected to me.

Struggling to draw breath, my lungs heaved from the physical toll the shock had taken on my system and I dropped my hand from the chest. Instantly, everything stopped. The ephemeral feeling of longing disappeared, and the other voices and sounds were just gone. It was quiet. Dead quiet.

I walked around behind the chest and closely surveyed the design. It was carved with delicate imagery, but didn't seem to have any consistency or story. I needed to go back with a camera and take photos of it for closer analysis at a later time.

Feeling a draw to a darkened corner at the very end of the room, I edged toward it and felt something inside me shift. A nervous anticipation roiled in my stomach. My chest tightened leaving me feeling as though someone had punched a hole in my chest and was strangling my heart in their bare hands. My eyes were having trouble adjusting to the darkness of the corner. Flickering images of something sitting against the wall flooded my thoughts. Rubbing at my eyes hoping to clear my mind or make clearer what I was seeing, I fell backwards, landing on the floor with the realization that I was remembering myself in this room. I had definitely been here. While it had been a possibility that I had seriously entertained, nothing had solidly confirmed that until now.

_I had been here._

As the realization began to sink in, my palms began to sweat; the clammy feeling soon spread through me like an errant, indiscriminate wildfire. The desire to run coursed through my body, demanding I find the nearest exit and flee as quickly as I could, without any care at all for how I exacted that action. In that moment, I would've jumped off a ledge if one had presented itself. My breathing was out of control; the choppy staggered breaths caused an ache in my chest from overexertion. I was having a panic attack. I'd only ever had a couple, but I was well-versed in what to do, so I pulled my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms around them, and lowered my head in an attempt to regain some control of my breathing; taking long deep, calming breaths. _In through my nose and out through my mouth. In through my nose, and out through my mouth._

After some time, though I wasn't exactly sure how long, the coldness of the early evening resulted in a chill that ran down my back. I shivered, tightening my arms around my chest. I'd been in the attic now for some time, and knew if I didn't return to the downstairs soon, one or both of the ladies would come to find me, and I wasn't prepared for the questions they would have if they saw me here in this state. I had to compose myself and head back to the living room as normally and professionally as I could.

**...**

I descended the stairs slowly, not quite sure what I was going to be greeted with when I entered the living area. Ms. Swan and Alice were both sitting on the couch, huddled close together. Alice appeared to be comforting Ms. Swan in a friendly embrace. I didn't want to interrupt, however my legs were shaking and I could barely maintain the ability to stand. I desperately needed to sit down and regain some composure.

As much as I was now certain that I had indeed been in Ms. Swan's attic somehow, I also had the professional responsibility to uphold my commitment to Ms. Swan, and I intended to fulfill that promise. However, now that I was cognizant of my involvement, I had to address this. The possibility that our two cases were in some way inexorably linked, never far from my mind.

I coughed subtly to announce my return. Alice turned her head over her shoulder and glanced at me, but Ms. Swan continued looking ahead, clearly not wanting to make eye contact with me. She had to be as unnerved by my appearance as I was by hers.

"I've completed my initial walk-through of the room in question, however, I will need to return to take more thorough notes and also have you show me specific areas where the events you've explained to me took place."

Ms. Swan answered with a almost imperceptible nod but remained looking away.

"Edward, I hope I'm not being too forward using your first name, would you like to take a seat? Can I get you a glass of water?" Alice said eying me warily, though her voice was pleasant.

"Thank you. Yes, that would be lovely." I moved over to the seat next to the couch Alice and Ms. Swan were perched on. I was hesitant to look at Ms. Swan, but being this close to her, found it nearly impossible to keep my eyes away from her.

Her flawless skin was gleaming with perfect health, her softly curled locks falling past her shoulder, and those eyes, so deeply enthralling; I felt caught in them. She was by far the most bewitching woman I had ever laid eyes on. So why was she involved in such an unexplainable quandary?

Unable to tear my gaze away, I noticed her glance at me briefly before awkwardly looking down at her feet. I didn't want to give her cause to feel more anxious and knew we'd have to talk soon, but I wasn't sure how to broach the subject of what was happening.

I shifted around nervously in my seat while I waited for Alice to return with a glass of water. Feeling her presence beside me a few moments later, I turned around and took the proffered beverage from her. The cool liquid soothed my parched throat and began to clear my turbid thoughts. I was about to speak up, though entirely unsure of what I was going to say, when Alice announced that she was going to leave us to talk.

Ms. Swan's head shot up, her eyes stunned and large like a deer caught in oncoming headlights.

It exacerbated my own distress to know she was that fearful of being alone in my company. I had to do something to allay those fears before she sent me packing, too alarmed to allow my presence to remain.

"Ms. Swan, I can see that you're nervous and please believe me, that is to be expected. I genuinely do not mean to frighten you if that's what I've done. It's obvious you're on edge, however, that will not make the job I've come here to do easy on either on us." I wasn't sure my next question was going to be well received, but at that moment I could think of nothing else that would help ease the engulfing tension. "Can I suggest that we go out for a bite to eat and get to know each other? That way we can discuss what is going on in a neutral environment where you feel comfortable."

I waited for her response but Alice spoke up, attempting to cajole Ms. Swan into going out.

"Bella, I think what Edward is asking is a good idea. You've asked him here and now that he is... well don't you think you should talk to him? He can't help you unless you do. Why don't you just go to the diner and grab something small for dinner."

Ms. Swan glanced back over at me and gently nodded her assent. She was so incredibly skittish and I didn't know what to do. We both stood and I walked slowly toward her so as not to make her more uncomfortable. I debated placing my hand at her back but dropped it before making contact, fearing that would only make her more tense.

Instead, closing her eyes she took a deep breath, pushed her shoulders back and turned away, walking over to the door.

"Coming?" she asked, her voice a little shaky but she masked it well.

Alice walked ahead of me and stopped before Ms. Swan, placing her hand comfortingly on her shoulder. She smiled softly in return and stepped back to allow Alice past. Following behind her, I turned and waited for Ms. Swan to close the door and lead the way to the car.

Alice looked over at me and told me she would return tomorrow to check in on Ms. Swan, who had now locked up and was standing beside me. Not too close but enough to let me know she was ready to go. The women smiled at each other and a look of understanding passed between them. I walked ahead to allow them a minute, feeling entirely unsure of how to deal with females in this state.

I wanted to assure Ms. Swan that I was no danger, that I was there to help. I felt a peculiar but fierce need to protect her. She looked so defeated in that moment, I wanted to offer her some kind of comfort but didn't know what was considered appropriate in this situation. I had to allow Ms. Swan to take the lead and let me know when she felt comfortable. It was the only way we were going to be able to have the discussion we very much needed to have.

**...**

I was standing on a twig, preoccupied with crushing it into smaller pieces when I heard steps behind me. I turned and watched Ms. Swan as she approached me, walking to the driver's side of her car. I hustled to the passenger side and got in. The atmosphere was immediately thick with tension as she reversed out the driveway and began the drive to the diner that Alice had suggested.

I considered speaking up, but every time I opened my mouth, what I had planned to say just wasn't good enough. Ms. Swan appeared to be no better off. She was white-knuckling the steering wheel and looking only at the road in front of her.

The drive to the diner was thankfully a short one because by the time we had pulled up, the atmosphere was stifling and the tension palpable. Someone was going to have to break the ice and it appeared that responsibility was going to fall on my shoulders, though I was no less nervous about that prospect than Ms. Swan clearly was.

We exited the car and she led the way into a small but charming eatery. It wasn't at all what I was used to, but I didn't have pretentious standards and was more than happy to dine there. More than anything, I just wanted to order something, hoping against hope that would be the opportunity I needed to properly initiate a conversation.

We took our seats and continued our game of 'who can avoid eye contact the longest,' while perusing the menu before the waitress came back to take our respective orders. She was a pleasant enough lady, in her late thirties I imagined. Unlike the typical disposition of the the waitresses often encountered at road-side stops, she was amenable and friendly while listing some of the meals on the menu that she recommended.

"Well hello, Bella. We don't often see in you in here anymore. How's your father?"

"He- he's fine, thank you Amy." Ms. Swan looked down at the menu, appearing to discourage further conversation from the waitress. Amy noticed and shrugged before taking mine and Ms. Swan's orders.

After Amy had returned to kitchen, I began mentally concocting various ice-breakers, deciding against each one promptly before I could spit it out, all the while knowing that the best way to attack this was to be as direct and personable as possible. I glanced away from the table, taking in my surroundings and noted the diner had a distinctly vintage aesthetic; the owners clearly enjoyed classic and popular movies because the walls were decked with film prints of all eras. This was juxtaposed with modern furnishings, creating a very eclectic setting that strangely worked in spite of itself.

Some of the prints I recognized from infrequent trips to the cinema and from my parents' own collection of DVDs. As I looked around out them, one in particular stood out from its place on the far back wall. I gasped and stood up, feeling a overwhelmingly compelling need to go to it and confirm that it was what I thought it was. Before I could leave the table, Ms. Swan's curious glare caught my attention, and I reined in my urge and reclaimed my seat. I mumbled an embarrassed apology and hoped she had heard it.

The waitress returned with our meals and Ms. Swan didn't wait any longer before beginning hers. If I didn't know any better, I could have sworn it was an attempt on her part to avoid speaking to me despite a desire to. As the waitress turned to leave us to our meals, I cleared my throat to gain her attention.

"Excuse me, Miss. The picture on the back wall, I recognize that from somewhere but I can't quite remember where."

"Oh yes, Bogey and Bergman. _Casablanca _is one of my favorites. Have you seen it?"

"No, I don't think so. I'm sure I'd remember. Thank you," my voice trailed off to a quiet murmur as I reflected on the forms in the poster.

She nodded in my direction, smiled, then moved on to the next table. I could see Ms. Swan glancing at me in her periphery while eating her meal. She was obviously curious about why I was questioning the waitress about a movie poster and understandably so. It was a perfectly odd thing to ask given the circumstances. But I wasn't ready or able to offer any answers to explain myself at that moment, so I took a bite of the pasta in front of me and harnessed the uneasiness saturating the air around us. Clearly Ms. Swan was not ready or capable to initiate so I would have to. I took a sip of my drink and then addressed the woman sitting before me.

"Ms. Swan, I realize this has to be awkward for you-"

"Aw- Awkward? This is more than awkward." She cut in, her voice frantic but outwardly she mostly maintained her calm 'in public' exterior. "This is impossible. You can't be here. You disappeared. You vanished, I saw it." She began shaking her head, appearing uncomfortable and bewildered by her own exclamations. Each word from her mouth spoken more quietly than the last.

Thankful for the food in front me, I gladly took another bite to deflect the statements coming at me. I had no idea how to handle this, so I told her as much. She had made me aware that she had seen a man in her attic, but until that point I couldn't be completely certain that she was aware that he and I were one and the same.

"Ms. Swan, I don't know what is happening here. I really wish I could give you more than that, but at this point all I can tell you is that we are both as lost and confused as to what is going here. For one of the first times in my life I find I have no answers, and if you pardon my brusqueness, it's scaring the living shit out of me. Something is definitely going on here, I can assure you of that. I have been to up to attic and I'm convinced that whatever is there wants me here for some reason. I don't know why but I can promise you, if you will allow me the opportunity, I will do everything I can to solve this. Everything."

Ms. Swan's hand was resting lightly on the table beside her plate and for some inexplicable reason I was compelled to place mine out in front of me and reached out for hers. When she noticed she gasped quietly and pulled her hand back under the table. Despite my honest proclamation she was still quite reasonably distressed and unsure about what was going on. I couldn't blame her. So was I.

"It's Bella, but you already knew that," she said, shaking her head as if mocking her choice of words. "Please call me Bella, since you're going to be here for a while by the looks of it."

"Okay Ms.- sorry, Bella." Taking a sip of my water to clear my throat, I plotted how to attack this conversation. We were each as lost as each other, and despite knowing that Bella was at least now able to talk to me, we had yet to discuss the details of why she had asked me here, beyond what I knew from her email. "Rather than continuing what is obviously a conversation with questions neither of us know the answers to, do you think you might be able to give me a better idea of what has been happening since you moved into the house?" Bella nodded and then proceeded, with an unsure and nervous voice, to relay the details of the experiences she had encountered, going over what she had mentioned in her email.

On the surface, the majority of occurrences appeared to be no different from the types of cases I attended to back home. However, the added anomaly of my involvement gave this case weight like nothing I'd ever handled before. Bella gave me an approximate list of dates and times that she had encountered the scratching noises, as well as the music that played of its own accord. I told her that I would need to listen to the song if she could arrange that. She then explained that she didn't own a copy, but that the song was from the same movie that I'd had the conversation about with the waitress. My interest flared at this, once again finding yet another unexplainable incongruity.

I would definitely have to watch this movie, and see if it is possible to track down the artist of the painting. Though given that it was likely painted fifty or sixty years ago, I realized the artist may no longer be alive. Still, there had to be some way to garner specific information about works of art posthumously.

By the time Bella had finished relaying all the necessary information and I had clarified some points so that I completely understood everything, we had both finished our meals. We stayed seated at our table, once again falling into a strained silence. We both had questions that the other was unable to answer, and with Bella's eyes darting in every direction but mine, it was clear she was yet to feel completely comfortable with me. The logical side of my brain understood and anticipated this, however, I couldn't help but sense a sinking feeling every time I caught her fleeting gaze.

It was approaching eight p.m and I had yet to check into the bed and breakfast that Bella recommended I use during my stay. I called the waitress over and settled the check before standing and offering my hand to Bella. She didn't notice it at first and made to stand unassisted, but when she saw my offer she raised her head slightly, looking up through her lashes shyly and biting her lip, likely a result of nervousness, then slowly placed her hand in mine and mumbled a quiet "thank you," as she stepped out of the booth.

Watching her hand slip into mine as I enveloped it created a pleasant warmth that settled in my stomach; akin to embers sparking before a flame. The empathy that I felt for this woman was at times overwhelming. I sensed that she had not had it easy in recent times, and I wanted to do all I could to remove her burdens. I held open the diner door for her and we proceeded to walk to her car. She unlocked the doors with her remote and I opened hers before making my way around to the passenger side to begin the short drive back to her house. The air between us was a little less strained, however, neither of us initiated any conversation.

Upon arriving back at the house, we spoke briefly on the porch, and I informed her that I would return in the morning to go through the house in more detail. Bella had to return to work after having taken the day off, so I agreed to arrive before she left in order to speak with her then. We parted and I watched her enter the house, hoping that when I returned in the morning, she would be able to have had a relaxing night without further disturbance.

**...**

Bella was standing on her porch, fumbling with something in her arms as I stepped out of the car the next day. "Good morning."

The items in her grip fell to the ground, creating a smattering of paper and manila folders all over the wooden deck. "Shit."

I was a little surprised to hear her curse, but it was nice to know she was feeling, perhaps more comfortable this morning to be herself in my presence.

"Sorry, you startled me. I didn't hear your car pull up."

I hustled to the door and knelt down to help her retrieve her papers. Many were covered in markings and notes, appearing to be student's work. "I'm sorry for scaring you, I should've been more aware." I gathered all the papers in my vicinity and handed them over to her as she placed the ones in her hands into a leather folder before zipping it up. "I take it you're on your way to work?"

"Um, no it's my fault, and yes, I was just waiting here for you to arrive, but I must have been daydreaming or something. I apologize for having to work today, but I'm not working a full day so if you're happy to do whatever you need to until I get back, please go inside and help yourself to food or drink, whatever you need. I'll be home in about four hours."

It was the longest stretch of words she had said to me since I arrived, and while she appeared more comfortable than the previous night, there was still an air of apprehension surrounding her.

I stood, and as I had last night, gave her my hand to help her to her feet. She took it with only slight hesitation this time, and as her fingers slid into my own, the same feeling I had previously experienced swept through me once again. This time, however, it was much more profound. Instead of a light, warming hum, it was a turbulent squall of nervous energy that thrashed through my system, unable to be contained by any harbor. I fought against it, willing myself to stay as professional as possible lest I cause Bella even more distress than necessary.

Before letting go her hand, I glanced down and offered a small smile, trying to gauge Bella's reaction. If I wasn't mistaken, I could have sworn something passed through Bella also. But before I could ponder that any further, she dropped her hand, the feeling of its loss leaving me with a miserable, hollow sensation. Her rich brown eyes were trained on mine, no doubt expecting me to qualify what just happened, but I was as lost as she appeared to be.

Bella mumbled something about having to be on her way or she was going to be late. She turned to the door and opened it a crack before racing down the steps to her car and hopped in, speeding away. Her tires furiously spit pebbles in the direction of my car as she fled the property.

Sighing, I pushed the front door open and went inside, looking around at the room before me. Bella had left the hallway light on, which created a muted glow throughout the adjoining entry. I moved through the living room to the dining room and placed my leather case on the table. Opening it, I got out my dictaphone, notepad and flashlight. I would need them for when I went back up to the attic. Rifling around in the back section of my case, I unzipped it and retrieved the key and wallpaper that I had placed in a leather pouch. I wasn't ready to reveal my suspicion to Bella that both of these items were linked to her house. I wanted to have more solid proof of my hypothesis before I possibly alarmed her further.

I gathered my things then turned back to the entryway and walked up the stairs. I hadn't taken the time last night to really look around the rest of the house, and after finishing with the attic, I vowed to go around the rooms and familiarize myself with the rest of the manor. As I reached the top step, the room that I felt oddly drawn to last night once again caught my attention. There was definitely something about it that I would need to look into.

Shelving my curiosity for the meantime, I continued towards the door to the attic, noting that it was closed. Bella must have shut it last night before she went to bed. I recalled her mentioning in her email that she wasn't fond of the room and hadn't been since she was a child.

Turning the doorknob, I opened the door and ascended the wooden steps. Every third or fourth one creaked underfoot, adding to the ominous feeling that perfused the stale air of the room. Moving into the attic, I made my way over to the paintings and noted that the couple in the picture was definitely not the same as the one from the diner. There was, however, a striking resemblance. I could only surmise that they very much enjoyed the movie and had a portrait made that stylistically mirrored the movie poster.

I needed to bring the portrait downstairs to get a better look at in natural light and possibly conduct further research if I deemed it necessary, but its size and age left me wary and I decided to wait until Bella returned home before I moved anything that might be considered valuable, or be something of a family heirloom.

Behind me was the chest that was my primary interest. I turned on my flashlight as I walked toward it, directing the beam at the front panel of the chest, slowly traveling it across the wood, trying to determine if there was some kind of scene depicted in the carvings, but no sense of flow or story became apparent. It looked like either a vine of roses or some other non-descript indentation.

I placed the flashlight on the ground, then opened the pouch and carefully removed the key. Suddenly, I was overcome with a shuddering sense of anxiety. My fingers started shaking, causing the key to fall from my grasp, the sound of it landing on the floor surprisingly loud as it echoed throughout the cavernous space.

Getting down onto my knees, I picked up the key, holding it tightly in my quivering right hand. With the light from the flashlight and the little natural light that was still filtering in from the window at the end of the room, I could make out the lid to the chest and moved the key toward the brass lock. Slotting it into place, I tried to turn it, but either it was stuck or the lock was jammed. I gave it another try, using more force this time, but again it did not move. Demoralized, I removed the key and slumped against the chest, feeling defeated and more confused than ever.

Wrapping my arms around my knees, I leaned back and closed my eyes trying to clear my head and regain some composure. I had been certain last night that the key I had would unlock this chest, and now that I hadn't been successful, I didn't know what to do. I didn't have the answers I needed to explain why I was somehow connected to everything that was happening. I had promised Bella that I would give her the answers and help her, but if I couldn't solve how and why I was a factor in this equation, I wasn't sure how I'd be able to make good on my promise.

This was above and beyond any investigation I had ever undertaken before.

I harnessed the feeling of defeat pulsing through me, determined to find the answers, and my way into the chest. I sat forward, instilled with a renewed vigour. The flashlight was still on, sitting beside me at my feet. I picked it up and turned around, shining the light directly at the lock. There didn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary about it - it looked exactly like any other.

As I ran my my fingers over the lid, the same feeling of intense loneliness and heartache that I had felt yesterday seeped through me once again. The coldness of the primal emotions left me feeling exhausted and on edge.

With the torch still in my hand, I stretched out my leg and carried my weight forward, moving around to the side of the chest. The vine pattern from the front continued on uninterrupted along the middle of the side panel, however along the bottom of the lid, it stopped midway before picking up again to carry on around to the back. Moving in closer, I noted a small brass fixture that looked very much like a keyhole, but far less decorated than the one on the front. With the key still in my right hand, I placed it into the lock surprised to find that this time I was successful in getting it to turn, a distinct clicking sound resonating around me signifying that I had unlocked it.

Excitement and nerves exploded through my body. I was finally going to find what was in the chest and hopefully it would answer the questions my sanity desperately needed the answers to:

_Why was I here?_

_Did it have something to do with The Philadelphia Project?_

_Was someone from my workplace involved?_

I put the flashlight back down and returned to the front of the chest, placing my hands on the lid. My fingers found two small grooves underneath that enabled it to be opened. Taking a deep cleansing breath through my nose, I pulled against the lid but nothing happened. Trying again, I used a little more force thinking that the chest probably hadn't been opened in many years and was fused shut from years of non-use. Again, nothing happened.

"No! Open, damn it." Kicking the chest, a searing pain ran up my leg from the force I'd used. I wasn't one to let my anger get the better of me, but it was getting ridiculous. I had the key, key goes into lock, lock opens. But apparently not this lock. No, it was mocking me. And I was left standing there accusing an inanimate object of having some conscious desire to play with my mind.

I really was losing it.

I don't know what exactly it was that triggered the thought, but it occurred to me that placing a lock on the side of a chest was a highly unconventional spot to put it, moreso when it appeared that the lock on the front was nothing more than a decorative ornamental piece. I walked around to the opposite side and in the middle, just as I'd hoped there was, another lock appeared. Another lock meant two keys. And I only had one. I had to find a second key, which meant revealing to Bella before I had wanted to of the key in my possession.

**...**

Upon reentering the dining room, I replaced my things back into my bag, keeping only my notepad and pen out, putting them in my back pocket. I was mindful to put the pouch containing the key and wallpaper in the secure, designated area at the back.

I had yet to tour the house and so walked around the table to the kitchen, where I fetched myself a glass of juice from the fridge. The clock on the wall above the sink read ten in the morning which meant that Bella would be home in about two hours.

Walking back out to the living room, I then crossed over the entryway to a long room that adjoined the hallway.

Light poured into the room through a large bay window that rivaled for dominance with a magnificent ebony grand piano situated towards the end of the room, farthest from the door. I crossed the hardwood floor over to the piano and lightly ran my hand across the top, admiring the workmanship of the instrument. I had no musical ability and had never attempted to learn, but standing there beside something so... grand, sparked a genuine and keen interest to one day learn.

I regarded the remainder of the room, noting that the walls were swallowed up by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves housing a mini-library of sorts. Reading was a favorite past time of mine, and I hoped during my stay here I would get the opportunity to peruse the collection.

Walking back out of the room, I headed for the stairs and made my way up to the room on the second floor that held my curiosity. As I turned the doorknob, the feeling that I'd endured last night was no longer evident, but I remained certain that this room was a vital element to the puzzle. The door creaked loudly as I pushed it open, a sign that perhaps the room was not used. Flicking on the light switch provided proof that the room was bare save for a rocking chair in the far back corner and a beautiful antique armoir along the right side wall.

The room was quiet large, but the hardwood floors and lack of furniture gave the impression of the room being much larger than it likely was. The pale yellow walls added to this feeling. I noted the walls were a different color to the rest of the house, however this was likely a bedroom at one point so I didn't focus on it for too long.

As I closed the door to the bedroom, I heard the front door open and Bella step inside. Walking over to the banister that overlooked the entryway, I watched her place her folder on the side bureau and remove her hair from the clip that was holding it in place. Her hair fell in loose wavy curls over her shoulder and I watched as she ran her fingers through it, feeling a pang of desire unlike anything I'd ever felt before warm my insides. Trapped in the grip of admiring her and imagining it being my fingers that ran through her luminous brown tresses, I failed to recognize that she had caught me watching her, her inscrutable gaze begging of some emotion or thought that I could not place.

"Mr. Cullen, how have things gone this morning. Do you have anything for me yet?"

Feeling ashamed for having been caught watching her, I averted my gaze to the floor and suddenly became very interested in a chalk-like scuff mark on my shoe, no doubt picked up in the attic.

"Not as yet, Ms... sorry, Bella. And please, call me Edward. If you're allowing me to refer to you by your first name, it's only right that I extend that same courtesy to you." I'd never felt the need to be so... disparate from how I would normally approach a client. I couldn't seem to prevent the professional stoicism that remained between us, despite knowing that it was likely detrimental to forming a comfortable relationship with Bella.

"I spent some time in the attic when I arrived here this morning and there are some things I need to talk to you about concerning that. Do you have a moment to come up with me now, so I can discuss it with you?"

"Um, sure. Just let me get a drink and I'll be right up. You go on ahead." I had a feeling she was going to be using the next few minutes to steel her resolve. I didn't like essentially forcing her hand to do things such as enter the attic, but unfortunately it was simply unavoidable.

I nodded and turned back to the attic door, climbing the steps and walking over to the paintings where I stood and waited for Bella. Not five minutes later, I heard the creaking of the steps that signaled she was on her way up. Even in the almost nonexistent light of the room, it was obvious that she was very anxious and did not want to be here. Her hands were shaking and her already pale complexion appeared almost gray and sickly. She desperately did not want to be here. I felt horrible about it but knew it was necessary.

"Bella, I understand you are uncomfortable and don't want to be in the room, so I promise to make this quick and then you can leave."

She nodded, and I was relieved to know that despite her unease she was still aware of my being nearby and hadn't let her anxiety get the better of her.

"These paintings, well this one specifically," I said, pointing to the one in front, "I was wondering if you might allow me to remove it from the attic? I wanted to ask first in case it is of some value to you."

"The painting isn't mine. I know my granddad had a collection of them, so I can only assume this is his, but I don't mind if you need to take it out. Do what you need to do. I just want this to stop," she said dropping her head into her hands.

Seeing her like this was affecting me in ways that I hadn't anticipated. On previous occasions the people that I'd helped were often emotional, but I sometimes got the impression that much of time it was exaggerated. It was clear this was not the case here. Bella was truly and deeply distressed. She completely believed and stood by everything she said and felt. It was reassuring.

"There's just one more thing Bella and then you can leave." I cupped the palm of my hand around her elbow and guided her toward the chest. Before squatting down I removed the notepad that was in my back pocket and handed it to her. "Can you hold these please?"

She obliged willingly, and I knelt down and crept toward the side of the chest to show her the second lock I had discovered in my earlier investigation. As I ran my hands along the chest, the pervasive saddening emotions once again rattled me. For the moment, however, with Ms. Swan so close, I knew I had to push any and all of my own trepidations aside. At least one of us had to show confidence, and given that I was the professional here, I knew it had to be me.

"Now, when I was in here this morning," I offered, as I let my fingers trail across the second lock, "I came upon an interesting discovery. It appears, if I surmise correctly, that this chest requires two keys to open it. It's an odd construction, to say the least, but if I were to guess, I'd say this second mechanism appears to be an extra security measure. So, I was wondering if you might have any idea where I could find the oth...uh, the keys?"

I stumbled on my words, not wanting to reveal just yet that I had one key that fit. I hated being so deceptive, yet at the same time, knew that discretion regarding my own involvement in this mystery was not something she could get into this early into the investigation.

When I didn't get a reply from Bella after a few moments, I turned around and found her furiously writing on the notepad, completely unaware that I had spoken to her. I called to her again, but got no reply. She almost seemed... possessed. I stood up and walked over to her, careful not to disturb, wary that sometimes ripping someone from a state such as this can be detrimental much in the way waking someone from a nightmare can be.

The pen was moving across the paper so fast, I couldn't make sense of what she was writing, her hand obscuring the page. But as she continued, I was able to begin making out the words. At first there didn't appear to be any clear sense to what she was writing but then it became apparent that the same two words were being repeated over and over again:

_my baby._

**...**

**Continued thanks to all those who have been there from the beginning, and to every one that has joined since. 'Muse' has over 300+ readers on alert but sadly the reviews do not reflect this. Please consider leaving your thoughts, feelings or theories. They genuinely do mean so much to me, and help immensely when the words just aren't there. **

**As mentioned at the end of the last chapter, things are really going to start picking up in pace now. Questions will be answered.**

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	10. Revelations: The Time Is Near

**Apologies for the late chapter. It was not my intent. I am epically fail.**

**Thanks as always to Bellalove72 and alonelily for both pre reading and betaing respectively. Huge thanks also to 1 Brave Lamb so helping me with the mother of all writer's blocks. Words cannot express my gratitude, bb.**

**I do not own.**

**...**

**Revelations: The Time Is Near**

**Edward**

Her writing became more illegible as she reached the bottom of the page. Standing beside her, I was frozen in my place watching her continue, unable to do anything.

_my boy_

I had no idea what the words meant, nor what they meant to Bella.

She was gripping the pen tightly, a deep frown was etched on her normally gentle features. Her eyes took on a vacant, glazed appearance; her body still visible in the room, but her mind locked and impenetrable.

The pen halted, hovering over the last written word, then fell to the floor, landing with a clattering sound that bounced off the walls, snapping me out of my inertia. Everything then happened at such an accelerated pace, all that was visible was a cloudy blur.

I sensed movement beside me and before I could ascertain what was happening, I was standing, struggling to get my muscles to cooperate, aiming to prevent Bella's collapse as she fell toward the floor. I yelled her name, my voice hoarse, and my throat thick with the knowledge of my helplessness. Her ankles gave way, causing her body to slump forward. I scooped my arms out, and placed them beneath her knees, clutching her tight to my chest.

"Bella! Bella, wake up! Come on. Wake up sweetheart." I nudged her gently, hoping she'd regain consciousness, but she was out cold.

Her face was shrouded by her thick blanket of hair, and I was unable to see her. She had not made a sound since collapsing, and I was certain she was unconscious. I brushed her hair off her face and could see her pale skin was lightly beaded with sweat, matting a few errant strands to her forehead. Taking in the sight before me, my hands began to cramp and I could feel sweat forming on my own brow. My entire body began to feel clammy, my legs shaking from a combination of what I had just witnessed, and holding her in my arms.

I had to get her out of the room. I walked over, turning for the stairwell, continuing to hold Bella securely in my arms. Her small, listless body seemed so delicate, fragile; reminiscent of dandelions battered by harsh winds.

My view of the stairs was obscured by Bella's body, and with each step forward it became increasingly more difficult to find my footing. My legs were quaking from strain and the repetitive, insistent voice in the back of my head that kept telling me not to drop her.

Feeling my way down each step, I finally managed to reach the last one before exiting the narrow and increasingly claustrophobic stairwell and walking out into the hallway. Bella still hadn't stirred as she lay slack in my arms. Her breathing was normal, so I didn't feel any grave cause for concern about a possible concussion, as I caught her before she hit her head on anything. However, I had no idea what happened, and therefore what state she would be in when she woke.

I took her to her bedroom at the opposite end of the hallway. I immediately felt uncomfortable upon entering her personal space. Logically I knew I was doing the right and gentlemanly thing, but it didn't ease the nervous thoughts bearing down on me that someone might think I was taking advantage of her. She was already feeling vulnerable, that much was certain, and the fervent desire to protect and help the woman in my arms took hold of my thoughts, anchoring itself there.

Carrying her over to her bed, I laid her down atop her duvet and swathed her in the blanket hanging over the foot of the bed. As I lightly shook her and called her name again, she showed no signs of waking. It hadn't been more than five minutes, but I was concerned that nothing I was doing seemed to have an effect.

Placing the back of my hand across her cheeks, it appeared that Bella was running a fever. It didn't seem too bad, but I was becoming concerned that with her not waking, it could worsen. I needed to cool her down. From where I stood I could see her ensuite. I walked over to the vanity and picked up the wash cloth that was sitting beside the sink and wet it lightly under the cool water. I made my way back over to her, and after folding the cloth over a couple of times, I laid it across her forehead.

I moved to the end of the bed and sat. I didn't want to leave her but I also didn't want to scare her when she came around, and I was certain if I was the first thing she saw, startled would be the least of the emotions she would experience.

I was satisfied that she was not in any immediate physical danger, so I reluctantly backed out of the room and crossed over the hallway once again on my way up to the attic. I had to retrieve the notepad. I needed to know more about what she had written and what it meant.

I had no idea what had happened, but as I added up the clues, I could only come to one conclusion: Bella was being used as some kind of vessel for communication. She had not mentioned anything like this having happened to her previously, so I had no idea if she would be able to provide me with any answers when she regained consciousness.

**Bella**

Falling. I was falling with nothing to catch me. Never ending blackness swallowing my body and mind.

I called out for help but emitted no sound. Waves rushed in, crushing me. And then there was nothing.

**...**

I felt the light before I saw it; muted warmth seeping through the onion skin of my eyelids. My muscles felt tight, coiled. I tried to move, stretching out my fingers and toes. The acute prickle of pins and needles raced up the length of my body. I could feel my face painted in a grimace while I waited for the sensation to pass.

As the fog slowly lifted, I opened my eyes, adjusting to the light that beat down on me from the ceiling. My bedroom ceiling. I was in my room, in my bed. I had no recollection of how I got there. Searching my mind for answers, I drew a blank. The last thing I recalled was Mr. Cullen asking if I would go upstairs to the attic with him.

With that thought, I sat upright. Blood rushed to my head, leaving me feeling weak and dizzy.

"Edward." My voice was barely a whisper, my throat parched.

The blanket that had been covering me fell to a bunched pool in my lap. I pushed it aside and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, wrapping my hands around the edge of my duvet while I regained my equilibrium.

After a few minutes, the faint tingle of pins and needles began to dissipate, and I was able to stand. I needed to find Edward. Palming the wall to steady myself, I managed to get to the door and into the hallway before making my way downstairs. I walked down slowly, taking one careful step at a time, all the while my head was swimming with puzzle pieces that I couldn't fit together.

As I made my way into the living room, I could see Edward sitting at the dining table in the next room, looking intently down at some papers. He was seated facing me, his jacket hanging on the back of chair beside him. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbow, and his left arm was on top of the table, fist firmly molded into his cheek, eyes glued to whatever he was reading. A crease marred the space between his eyes.

I stood in the doorway, watching him, unable to look away. I remained wary of everything; the events of my life that brought Edward here always at the forefront of my mind. I wanted to remain wary of Edward, but looking at him now, at his guileless, determined, face I knew that I was safe with him. That he wanted... needed to find the answers as much as I did.

"Edward, what happened?" My throat felt blocked, and I wasn't able to ask anything else before I had to cough.

Edward's eyes lifted immediately from what he was reading and he pushed his chair back to walk over to me. I stepped back a little, uncertain as to why he wore such a look of concern.

"Bella, are you all right? His voice was frantic and full of concern. He placed his hand on my shoulder and asked, "What do you remember? What can you tell me? Shit, sorry. You need to sit first." He walked back to the table and pulled out the closest seat, gesturing for me to sit down.

I walked over and sat, looking up at him questioningly, urging him to answer my previous question. Everything he had said made no sense.

"I don't remember anything. I don't know what happened. I... I just woke up in bed. The last thing I _do_ remember," I said over-enunciating the 'do', "is you asking if I would go upstairs to the attic with you."

My voice was a little raspy and I asked Edward to get me a glass of water, which he did before walking back to the other end of the table and picking up what I had seen him looking at, bringing it back with him and then taking a seat beside me.

"Bella," he said, looking at me and then back down at the notebook, "you collapsed while writing this. I carried you out of the attic and to your bed. I wasn't sure what had happened, but fainting seemed the most likely explanation and since you didn't regain consciousness in the attic, I figured if you came to while in your bed, you'd feel safest there. You don't remember anything of what happened at all?"

I felt a little strange knowing he had been in my bedroom, but under the circumstances it was perfectly reasonable. Focusing on everything else he said, I first thought he was simply making a statement, but then I recalled the inflection in his voice and took in the way he was looking at me with raised eyebrows.

"No, Edward. I don't remember. And what do you mean I collapsed while writing it? Show me," I replied snatching the notebook from his hands. I didn't mean to be rude, but what he was saying made absolutely no sense. I was beginning to panic, my hands trembling as I held the notepad. I needed an explanation.

Looking down at the page before me, the same words appeared over and over again, each line more unruly than the last. _My boy. _What did that mean? Why would I have written that? And more importantly, why did I collapse and have no memory of it? The raging influx of questions concerning everything unanswered of Edward, and who he was, and why everything was happening that burned inside my mind, constantly erupted from within. "And why the attic? How did you get there? Were you there only the two times I discovered you? Why, Edward? Why?" I asked, frustrated with my lack of understanding and patience to know the answers to what it all meant.

Gasping, I clamped my hand over my mouth, a trickle of tears slipping out of the corner of my eye.

Edward placed his hand over my own free one, a pleasant but pulsing warmth traversed down the length of the arm, and said, "Bella, I don't know the answers to any of your questions just yet, but I promise you that just as I will find the answers as to why I was in your attic, I will solve this. But to do that, I need you to trust me and be completely forthcoming about everything you know."

I nodded at him dumbly and waited for him to continue.

"At the diner last night, you mentioned someone named Jared. Am I correct? Something about him running into you at the supermarket and knowing things that he shouldn't."

"Yes, Jared Tsosie. He helped me with something I couldn't reach and then asked me completely out of the blue if I'd ever experienced anything odd in the house. Before I could ask him what he was talking about, he clammed up and refused to answer me. He just said he was sorry and was out of line." I watched Edward as I relayed this to him, and while his face betrayed no outward emotion, he removed his hand from mine and curled it up into a tight fist. His reaction to what I'd said surprised me.

Continuing on I told him, "Alice convinced me to go out to the rez where he lives and speak to him. I was unsure at first, but when I realized it was the only way I was going to get any answers, I did it. But when I got there, it was more of the same. He wouldn't give me anything. He just kept saying he was sorry and couldn't help me. By the time I left, I was a wreck. That was the day I called you." The feeling coursing through my body at this point reflected the panic I had felt prior to calling Edward. The emotions came pouring back, slamming into me, quickly advancing from the omnipresent anxiety of days past to anger at the thought of me at being someone's plaything while he messed with my head.

"Okay, I'm going to need to know how to get to this rez place. I'll need to go down there and speak to him. Is there anyone else that you can think of that I should be speaking to? It doesn't matter how inconsequential you think they are. You'd be surprised how much helpful information I can glean from the most unusual suspects."

"I don't think so," I replied, running my hand through the loose knots that had formed from lying down. But then something occurred to me. "Actually no, there was something." Edward turned back to face me, curiosity piqued, "After I left the rez, I stopped in at the library. That's where we found the article." At this, Edward interrupted what I was saying.

"_We_?" he inquired.

"Sorry, yes Alice was there. I saw her car parked there on my way back from the rez. When I went in, Alice said she'd asked the the librarian to get her a copy of a microfiche file with information about the house. It just so happens, that was the article I sent you. Anyway, when the librarian returned with fiche, she didn't say anything, but acted quite rude as if it had offended her that we'd asked for a copy. She gave it to me reluctantly, but, something just didn't sit right with either of us."

"Do you think she knows more than she is letting on?"

"I don't know," I replied shrugging. "I can't see how, though she was old enough to maybe know something. I guess it's feasible. I just don't like the idea that all these people around town could possibly know something this important, yet still keep it from me."

"Bella, I understand your confusion and annoyance, and I wish I could give you some answers now, I really do, and after speaking to these people, hopefully I'll have something for you." With this, he bent down, picking up his leather case and placing it on the table. Reaching inside, he pulled out a copy of the article I had sent him. "Now, speaking of the article, what do you know beyond what it conveys?"

"Um, not much really. My granddad didn't tell me anything about the manor before he and my grandma moved in. Though I think it might have been vacant for sometime before he bought it. Anyway, the piano in the other room - I'll take you there in a minute - it wasn't my granddad's. He said it was left here and he liked it so much that he and grandma decided to keep it. He didn't play it himself, though he used to tell me stories about how my grandma would often play for guests after dinner parties."

"Yes, I've seen the piano. I found it when I was walking around earlier. It's a beautiful instrument," Edward said smiling, obviously remembering it.

"Do you play?" I don't know why I felt compelled to ask, but it just seemed natural to do so. I didn't want all of our conversations to be about the house and whatever was happening inside of it. Part of me wanted to know the Edward behind the paranormal expert.

"No, I don't," he mused rather ruefully. "I don't have a musical bone in my body, though I sometimes think it would be nice to know how to play something."

"Sorry, I can't help you there. I don't know how to play either, but for some reason, I like it. I can't bear to part with it."

"I can understand that. I quite like vintage furniture and other items myself. Blame my mother and her insatiable thirst for antiques and collectibles." I laughed at this. It was the first time I'd laughed since his arrival. It felt nice to just let go and be normal, especially with Edward. I was beginning to feel more comfortable around him. He was pleasant and patient, and I appreciated that. He watched me laugh for moment, before chuckling himself. "If you met her, you might not find it that funny. She's like a dog with bone at some of the antique shops back home. Anyway, we should get back on topic."

I agreed. While it was good to have a little laugh, I didn't want us to get sidetracked.

"So, from what you know, was there nothing left with the piano that referenced the previous owners?"

"Not that I've seen, though my granddad did find out how old it was. He traced the serial number and found it was made in the late 1930s. So it's likely been here for a long time."

"And there was nothing else, no other furniture left behind, besides the chest?"

"Actually, in the spare bedroom next to mine, there is a rocking chair and an armoire. Neither belonged to my grandparents, so I guess they were left here also."

"I saw those earlier today as well. And the paintings? All of them belonged to your granddad? Actually, before you answer that..." His voice trailed off momentarily, and I could see how his eyes narrowed while trying to start putting the pieces of this mystery together. "I know you won't remember this, but bear with me. When you came up to the attic with me, there was a painting of a couple that was very similar to the Casablanca movie poster. Did that belong to your grandparents?"

My mind immediately went to the painting in question. "Not that I know of. But, then I hadn't seen the paintings for years, not until I went up to the attic the first time and saw you there." I let out a soft chuckle. "Huh, it's strangely... freeing to be able to acknowledge that." I felt a little shocked at how easy the words just fell out of mouth but at the same time, the acceptance of it made everything else easier to cope with.

"I know exactly what you mean," Edward replied with a knowing smile that left a warm hum throughout my body. "One other thing, when we were upstairs, you said it would be okay for me to remove the painting. Is that still okay?"

"Sure, I can't see why not. Do you think it means something?"

"Well I'm not sure, but the song that you mentioned you heard play spontaneously, _As Time Goes By_, well, with that being in the movie Casablanca, and the portrait bearing a striking resemblance, I think it warrants further investigation."

Excited that Edward might have something that could provide some answers, I was more than happy to let him do whatever he thought necessary."Please, do whatever you have to."

"Okay. I'll leave it there tonight since it's getting late, but I might come back tomorrow and get it." He turned the page over on the notepad that was still in front of me, the words I'd written on it never far from my thoughts, and asked me to write down the address and some directions to the rez. I did so and gave him a description of what Jared looked like, with the hope Edward would be able to source more information out of him.

Edward then put the notepad in his case, and stood from the table. "If you think you'll be okay for the rest of the night, I should get back to the B and B." He looked me over, awaiting my response and for a moment. I was too taken with his forearms and how they had twisted and moved as he put the notepad away.

"Bella. Are you okay?"

Snapping out of my reverie, I nodded and replied yes to both being okay and whatever he had said before that, though I couldn't remember for having been too taken by staring at Edward.

"All right. Well, I'll call you tomorrow, perhaps before I head down to this rez place and let you know what the plan is."

As I walked Edward to the door, I thanked him for his help, and for being there today when I had collapsed or whatever it was that had happened. Remembering could possibly be helpful, but at this point I wasn't sure if I wanted to. He smiled and told me he'd speak to me tomorrow and that he hoped I had a good night. I wished him the same and then he turned and walked to his car, leaving me alone in the house once again.

**...**

**Edward**

For the second time today, I was unable to reach Bella on the phone. I knew it was a possibility because I'd slept in and not been able to call her before she left for work. I'd stayed up late last night on my arrival back at the bed and breakfast, wracking my brain trying to think of reasons why Bella had written the words 'my boy' without having any direct reason to. But for some inexplicable reason, my mind kept returning to the portrait. And at this point, there didn't appear to be a direct link between the two. After a couple of hours of going nowhere with that theory, I moved on to the other issue that was a major grievance of mine: the Philadelphia Project. I spent the rest of the evening refreshing my memory on the details of it and trying to ascertain who would leave such a cryptic note on my desk, leaving me no clue as to who was behind it.

Jenks employed a large number of staff, and after assessing everyone who worked on my office floor, I was no closer to figuring anything out. The letter had been typed, so there was no way I could trace the writing. And the Project itself was a well-known phenomenon within the organization, with most everyone having studied it in some form during their employment. Before I knew it, it was nearing one a.m. and I had get some sleep, although my mind was active with thoughts of what might come of my unscheduled meeting with this Jared person.

Returning to my current predicament, Bella was likely caught in class and unable to take my call, so I decided to make the drive out to the rez and speak with her when I returned.

**...**

The drive to La Push where the rez was located took about half an hour. The highway was lined with some kind of pine tree; the blurring green swirled around my peripheral, offering a picturesque backdrop for the short trip.

Most of the drive, however, was dominated with thoughts of how I could persuade Jared to give me the answers he persisted in keeping from Bella. That she had said he was so steadfast in not speaking with her told me that he simply had to know more. There was no logical reason that I could fathom as to why he would ask a such a pointed question as he had, if he had no intent on answering it.

Driving past the sign that welcomed me to La Push, I leaned over and picked up the sheet of directions that Bella had given me. There was a clearing up ahead and if I was unable to locate Jared there, I had the address to his cabin.

I found the clearing easy enough and spotted five or six men sitting on some logs. I got out of the car and began to walk over, entirely unsure of the reception I would receive. Before I reached the men, one of them turned in my direction, no doubt unsure as to what I wanted.

"Can we help you?" asked the tall, dark-haired man standing a few feet from me.

"Yes, I hope so. I'm looking for Jared."

At this, one of the men who was yet to turn around, did so. "You're looking for me?"

"If you're Jared, then yes I am."

He stood, and I could tell immediately that despite my own 6'1" frame, he towered over me. He had to be at least 6'5," possibly taller. He had cropped hair that was as black as asphalt, and russet colored skin that seemed minimally pinker than the others nearby.

Jared walked over and firmly shook my hand. My first impressions not fitting with the aspersions I had dealt him during my drive here.

"What can I do for you...?"

"Sorry yes, I'm Edward Cullen. I need to ask you a couple of questions if that's all right?" I leaned in a little so that the others wouldn't hear me ask if we could take this conversation some place else. Until I knew what I was up against, I'd rather keep the details of my chat with Jared private. He nodded and we walked over a short way, enough that the others were still in sight but out of earshot.

"I'm sorry about the cloak and dagger routine, Mr Tsosie. I hope I pronounced that right." He nodded again signaling that I had and I continued, "I'm a... well, I guess you could say I'm a friend of Bella Swan." Jared's eyes grew large and he gave me a small smirk.

"Bella Swan. Let me guess, she has asked you to come out here and get the answers I didn't give her?"

I balked at this honesty. I really wasn't expecting it to be this easy. I had anticipated it being like someone other than King Arthur trying to remove Excalibur from the stone, but instead he was offering me the answers willingly.

"That would be one way of putting it. But look, before you continue, I should explain that when I said I was a friend, well, it's a bit more complicated than that. Bella has retained my services to investigate her house. And she explained to me that you had asked her some questions about some strange things going on inside her house, and that led her to believe you knew more about the situation. But when you refused to answer, well understandably she's now confused and quite frankly scared of her own place. I was hoping you could shed some light for me about what you know. I figured it might be easier for you to talk to me rather than her."

Jared stood, waiting patiently for me to finish my explanation. The look on his face told me, however, he was eager to say his peace.

"Look Edward, I'm sorry that you've driven all the way out here and wasted your time, but I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Bella. I don't know anything. Now if you don't mind..."

"I'm sorry," I said, grabbing his arm. When he looked down and saw my arm on his, he responded with a snarl like expression schooled on his face, and I removed it immediately, fearing I had overstepped my mark. Feigning control of myself so as not to give him the impression I was concerned about what he might do next, I continued, "I don't understand why you would bring up a subject such as this, uninitiated by her and then not provide the answers when requested. That just doesn't make sense to me," shaking my head, I didn't let my own confusion on the matter prevent me from making my point. "Especially when there clearly is something going on in that house." For a moment Jared appeared almost stunned but reined it in. "I've heard it, seen it and experienced it. So if you would be so kind as to explain what you know, then I'll get out of your hair."

He whispered something under his breath that I could barely make out but it sounded like "it's real," which made no sense, given that he already knew that.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Um, I have some things I need to do..."

"Oh for crying out loud, I didn't want to come out here and lose my temper. It's obvious you know something. Please, please just give me something to go on."

Jared looked away back at the others who were still seated around the fallen logs and then back at me. He opened his mouth to speak before closing it, and then tugging on his hair. "Edward, there really isn't much to tell," taking a deep breath, he looked back in the direction of the logs and waved a hand, likely signaling he wouldn't be much longer. "I'm not supposed to be saying this." He was nervously fidgeting with his fingers, twisting them and running them down the front of his shorts, "the reason I asked Bella about it was because I didn't really believe that anything _was_ going on. It was just some stupid story that had been passed down over the years. I didn't mean to ask her; I just did. I was curious. I mean, come on man, you hear these stories when you're a kid and you don't believe them, and then to find out that they could be real..."

"What's real?"

"Just stories man," he said, pulling on his hair as if to take out his apprehension on something tangible. "It would just be so much easier if Renée were still alive."

"Renée?" I questioned, and watched as the emotions displayed on his face went from nervousness, to shock to completely veiled.

"I need to get back. I've said too much. You can't say anything about this to anyone." And with that, he clapped me on the shoulder, turned around and jogged back to others.

I was left standing there in a sense of bewilderment at what has just taken place. That couldn't be all there was to it. I wanted to go after him and demand he explain himself further but he had already made it back to where the others were sitting and they appeared to be questioning him. As much as I wanted to return to Bella with the full story of this Renee person, I thought it best to leave before this became something I couldn't handle on my own. Jared wasn't going anywhere, and neither was I. There was plenty of time.

Making my way back to my car, I looked over my shoulder and surreptitiously noted Jared glancing at me also. He then pointed his index and middle fingers at his eyes and then turned them on me. I knew this was his way of warning me against telling anyone, but there was no way I wasn't informing Bella of what had taken place here today. She had every right to know. I nodded back at him because I didn't want to cause a problem, especially if it would make things worse for Bella.

I got into my car and drove way. The events that had just taken place leaving me reeling.

**...**

**Bella**

By the end of the school day I had yet to hear from Edward. When I checked my phone during my lunch break, I noticed that there were two missed calls but when I went to listen to the messages, a student interrupted me and I was left without another opportunity until I had finished for the day. I walked out of the building and got into my car, before retrieving the messages. Edward had tried to call me, explaining that he was late on leaving this morning and that he was on his way out to the rez, and would contact me later in the afternoon when he returned.

Feeling a sense of relief I pulled out of the parking lot and made my way home. I'd been distracted for the most part of the day thinking about Edward and our conversation yesterday. Once we had acknowledged that something unheard of was going on, not just in my house, but how it seemed to revolve around him, we fell into an easy sort of camaraderie. Conversation flowed and we just seemed to get along. It didn't hurt that he was a very handsome man, looking no different in person to how he appeared in the attic, with the exception of the disheveled clothes. I was plagued with thoughts of the dream I'd had of him throughout the day, all at the most inopportune moments. I managed to keep my mind from thinking of the cockroaches, and just remembering his hands on me, which left me feeling a little embarrassed but excited. Jasper making a note of my flushed appearance only served to heighten my embarrassment, so I made a conscious effort to keep the daydreaming to a minimum after that.

When I arrived home, my phone flashed with an incoming call. I answered and listened as Edward told me he had returned from the rez and was at the B & B waiting for me to return home. I hung up expecting him to arrive within the half hour.

The door knocked not twenty minutes later, and I opened it to find a smiling but not particularly joyful Edward, as I had hoped. I smiled in return and gestured for him to come in and he made his way into the living room and took a seat, with me right behind him. I sat opposite and waited for him to tell me what had happened.

"Okay, so I spoke to Jared and at first I thought he was going to be greatly helpful, but," and with the 'but' my heart sank. I knew I wasn't going to get the answers I so desperately needed. "He just repeated the same thing to me that he had said to you. So, I explained in more detail who I was and what information I was seeking from him. He still didn't seem amenable and I was losing my patience quickly with him. I told him that I had seen, and experienced things happening here for myself. He became very quiet at that. He was acting rather odd for a moment, and then mentioned a woman's name. Does the name Renée mean anything to you?"

Everything froze in that moment. The only thing I could hear in my head on a constant loop was her name. When I could finally push the words from my desiccated throat I answered him simply, "She's my mother."

"Your mother? What does your mother have to do with this?"

"Nothing. She can't have anything to do with it. She died just after I was born."

The silence hung between us, neither of us able to find the words to make sense of this revelation. Edward looked lost in thought while I grappled with my own shock. After a few moments, Edward cleared his throat effectively snapping me out of my daze.

"Right," he said pulling himself back into the moment. "Well that was the most I could get out of him today. I agree that it sounds suspect, but I didn't get the chance to question him further. I think what I managed to get out of him is a start. Thankfully, it's not the only lead I have. Please don't panic yourself Bella. I've promised to do everything I can to make this right and I'm sticking to that." He was looking me directly in the eyes as he said this and I could feel the truth in his words emanating from him. I needed to get a hold of myself and let him do his job.

I tried to recollect my composure, bewildered from hearing my mother's name. Questions about how and why Jared would even know her name overran my mind. Instead of allowing myself to get lost in outlandish theories about what my mother might have done, I re-focused my attention on the here and now. "Okay, so what's next?" I asked, wanting to make sure I was kept in the loop every step.

"Well, I thought while I was here, I'd go upstairs and collect the painting. Take it back with me until I figure out where I can garner more information about it."

"The painting... oh right, the one in the attic?" Edward raised a questioning brow and I knew at some point I would have to divulge the details of my past. Feeling weighed down by the unsettling information, I needed to deflect the attention onto something else. "That reminds me, while I was at work today I borrowed a copy of Casablanca from the library for you. You did say you hadn't seen it, right?" I reached into my bag beside the seat and removed the DVD. If he realized my sudden desire to change the topic he didn't pull me up on it.

"Yes, that's right. I was thinking of trying to find a copy of it tonight. Thank you," he said as I handed it to him.

"Hope you don't mind black and whites."

"No, I've seen a few in my time. My mother, Esme, well, along with her keen propensity for hunting down antiques, she's quite into the classics. I managed to evade her forcing me to sit down and watch this one as a teenager, but I'm older now and infinitely more boring, so I'm sure this will be right up my alley."

"I don't know about boring Edward," stunned that I had said something that was borderline flirtatious, I turned my face away to hide my rising blush.

A ubiquitous silence passed between us before Edward broke the awkwardness of the moment by asking if I had the original title deed to the property.

"No, I don't. It's funny you ask because Alice offered to get a copy of it for me, but I haven't spoken to her since she was here the other day. I know she's busy for the rest of the week, so I don't know if she'll have it for me by the weekend."

"I think the deed could be a very important source of information for us, so if you don't mind, can I make a suggestion that we get it as soon as possible? I can help you with that if you want."

"Okay sure, but I need to go to Port Angeles, to the County Clerk's office there to get it. That's about an hour away. And I don't have another day off until Friday. I'll tell Alice not to worry about it."

"Would you like me to come with you?"

Smiling at his offer I said, "I was hoping you'd say that. It can be a lovely drive when you know it like the back of your hand. And it would give us an opportunity to get to know each other a bit. You're going to be here for a while, we should at least be friends, right?"

"Bella, I would love nothing more than to be your friend. I'm just sorry that it's under these circumstances we've met." I could tell he was sincere in his response by the way his eyes never left mine. While that usually left me feeling somewhat uncomfortable and naked, when Edward looked at me, I knew it was because he wanted to, and not simply because it was good manners.

Edward stayed a while and we talked about meaningless things, his life in San Antonio, some more about his family, his job and how he enjoyed it greatly, except when he had so much work in front of him he couldn't see the desk for the papers. It was nice just getting to know him some more. I was enjoying his company more each time I was around him.

After a while Edward announced that he had to leave. While his work centered on my house, there was still plenty he could do from his own accommodations... plus he had a movie to watch. Before he left, Edward went upstairs and retrieved the portrait, lugging it downstairs with some difficulty. I offered to give him a hand to get it outside and into his car. As he turned it around for me to pick up the other side, something about the portrait immediately caught my attention. I wasn't sure what to make of it, if anything, and Edward must have noticed something was wrong. Before he could ask about it, I smiled back at him and told him I'd hurt my already weak wrist from mishandling the picture.

He didn't seem certain with my response, but didn't question it. Instead we continued on and got it into his car without further trouble and then he left for the night, but this time, I wasn't left with the same level of despondency that I had been the previous night.

**...**

**Edward**

After watching Casablanca that night, I felt no closer to finding any answers. I had thoroughly enjoyed the movie and I could see why others would also, particularly those living in the same era that the movie was set. I was, maybe foolishly, hoping that the answer or at least one of them would reveal themselves to me, but all it managed to do was get that damn song stuck in my head.

When I had gotten back, I had some trouble removing the portrait from the car. Thankfully another guest offered to help me out and the painting was now sitting on top of the desk staring me down, willing me to find the answers to what everything meant.

With the lyrics stuck in my head as I lay trying to find a comfortable position, I felt glad that Bella and I were finding a friendship amongst the turmoil surrounding the both of us. In spite of the circumstances, I was glad to have met her. I'd not met someone so genuinely pleasant to be around before, and it made my job so much less stressful.

**...**

The next two days passed without much fanfare. I went to Bella's each day, once while she was at work and the next time, I waited for her to return home before I arrived, staying beyond two in the morning and letting myself out quietly so as not to wake her. The house itself had been strangely quiet. There had been no spontaneously playing music, or scratching sounds. Bella didn't report anything else out of the ordinary occurring. It was as if everything had ceased, leaving no trace behind, no one the wiser.

I explained to Bella when she was curious but pleased that things had for now stopped, that cells as they are known in my business, sometimes become cold, or dead. And while I didn't believe this was the case here, I wasn't too surprised that there had been little to no action. I told her that a haunting to call it that, is residual negative emotional energy left behind, imprinting on the property where the majority of the emotion was expressed. And that maintaining the level of emotion required to consistently 'haunt' isn't always possible, and sometimes a property can go for days, even weeks with anything significant occurring during an active spell.

Thursday, I went to the library and did some general research on the area, hoping I might be able to turn up something that way, but unfortunately there wasn't really any available information that revealed anything useful about the residents during the 40s. There was talk of the men returning home from the War and the relief their wives felt. The population had apparently grown during this time, taking Forks from essentially a town not worthy of a mark on a map, to a small town that earned a good reputation as a hamlet worth visiting for a weekend away.

I spent some time on the microfiche, searching through the records there, and came across the original of the article that Bella had sent, which reminded me of her comment about the librarian. Scanning the room around me, I could find no one that fit the description of an older lady. There was however, a younger girl at the front counter. I left my seat at the microfiche and approached her. She was quite pretty and slight in stature, maybe no more than twenty years old, and probably a student.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if there was anyone else working here today. I don't know her name but some friends of mine mentioned an older lady who works here was quite helpful when they were here not long ago."

"Oh, you're probably talking about Leslie. She's out the back working on some filing. Would you like me to get her for you?"

"Yes, thank you, if you wouldn't mind," I replied, pleased that someone else may be able to be of assistance.

"No problem at all," she said leaning over toward me, "though I don't know why your friends told you she was helpful. She might know everything there is know, but personally I find her to be a crabby old thing." Then she walked away, in the direction of what I assumed was the back room.

I couldn't help but smirk at the lack of couth she displayed. It seemed everyone thought the same thing. I picked up a book on the counter while I waited for them to return, glancing over the cover and contents.

A croaky voice penetrated my imaginings, causing me to drop the book on my foot. "Damn it."

I looked up and noticed the woman before me was glaring at me, likely not happy for my having interrupted her work and for cursing in the library. Which was not something I was want to do, I had just been surprised.

"You asked to see me?"

"Yes, I did. Thank you. I was just wondering if you remember speaking to two young women, around a week ago? They had you copy an article from the microfiche."

"Yes, I remember the both of them. Nosy little things they were. They should keep out of others business. Sticking their noses in like that," she said shaking her head, the real image of a cranky old woman with nothing better to do than harp on at other people all day.

"Well, one of those women happens to own the house the article was focused on. She was simply wanting to find out more of its history, but the article says very little. I was wondering if you might know anything that I can report back to her?"

"No, I don't think so. See, I've not lived here my whole life, so I don't know all the town gossip. I do recall people talking over the years about someone who lived there, but I'm afraid I don't know their name. I'm sure it was a lady though. And from all accounts, a lovely one. Wasn't seen very often, but I think the article mentioned that. Beyond that, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"That's okay, thank you for your time. Oh, one other thing, you wouldn't happen to know if there's anyone else that might know anything more about the house or who lived there?"

"I don't know. I dare say there would be someone. But I can't help with you a name. You could maybe try Mavis at the diner. She's quite the old busybody. Now, if you'll excuse me I need to get back to what I was doing."

Mavis. I'd be sure to speak to her just as soon as Bella and I returned from Port Angeles tomorrow. If everything went according to plan, we'd be back by early evening and could probably stop in at the diner for dinner and speak to her then.

**...**

**Bella**

Edward was prompt in picking me up on Friday morning. Awaiting me in the car, he had brought a croissant and tea for the drive. We made idle chit chat about nothing in particular to pass the time, mainly discussing the weather of the area, which today was foreboding to say the least. Gray clouds left their indelible mark, championing for rain which had been holding out, but I wasn't sure if it could have much longer.

Conversation ceased, politely falling to a calm silence until I began to notice Edward casting glances at me from the corner of his eye. I ignored it for a while, thinking maybe I was making more of it than was the case. But after twenty minutes, I was unable to retain my curiosity.

"Edward, is something wrong?"

"No. Why would you ask that?"

"Well you've been shooting errant looks at me now for the past twenty minutes. Something's obviously wrong."

"There's nothing wrong Bella," he sighed before looking back at the road. "I've just got something on my mind."

"Well, if you need to talk to someone, I'd be happy to listen." And it was the truth. I was more than happy to help Edward with anything I could. I felt I owed that for being so generous in his time and patience with me.

"Thanks Bella. I'm just not sure how to go about something. I'll keep what you said in mind." And with that he went back to driving.

However five minutes later, I caught him glancing at me yet again.

"Okay Edward. Game's up. Spill." I said, trying to be as light and jovial as possible in the hopes he too would lighten up and talk to me.

"I just... God this is so... I should've said this earlier, but with you collapsing and well..."

"Edward, whatever it is clearly concerns me. So please just spit it out."

With a final sigh of resignation he began to speak quietly, as though he were wary of my reaction. "When you came up to the attic with me, before you collapsed, I had begun to explain something to you, but I didn't get the chance because of what happened next. There really isn't anyway to explain this without just saying it. The chest in the attic requires two keys to open it. It's a peculiar locking mechanism. Each side of the chest has a lock, as opposed to the front, which does also have one, but it's more decorative than anything else"

I really wasn't sure what to make of what he was saying, so I just sat there and listened awaiting how I played into this.

"Before you collapsed, I was about to inform you, and I don't know how or why, but somehow I have one of those keys."

Words escaped me momentarily, my mouth unable to form the thoughts circling in my head. Why would Edward have a key? How did _he_ get a key?

"Bella? Um, Bella, are you okay?"

"Y-yes. I just... can you say that again, please?"

"I'm sorry Bella. I tried to tell you in the attic, but... I don't know why or how I have it. Honestly. I just... I have one of the keys," he said, sounding almost meek and unsure of my reaction. And I guess he had reason to be. Not that I was angry, more so just bewildered.

"How... when did you find it? Where did you find it?"

"Well," he said drawing a long breath, choosing his words carefully. "I found it before I came here. Before I had even spoken to you actually."

I'm sure my face would have resembled one of those laughing clowns on sideshow alley if I were to see my reflection in a mirror at that moment.

"I was on my way to my car and searching my pocket for my parking ticket to exit the garage, and well I heard something land with a distinct clank on the ground. When I bent down to pick it up, I found it was a key... a skeleton key to be precise. It plagued my thoughts for days after because I had no idea to whom it belonged or why it had apparently been in my pocket. I found no answers at home, and then when you called and I agreed to come out here... well for some reason it just felt pertinent that I bring it with me." He looked back at me and I told him to continue, because clearly judging by his features he yet had more to say. "When you left for work that morning, I went up to the attic and I tried my key... and it fit and better yet it unlocked it, but only on the one side. That was when I became of aware of the double lock."

It was odd to me that Edward was the focal point of everything unnatural happening inside these walls; and with this revelation I should have wanted to feel unsure and discomfited, and yet, while I was definitely anxious and exasperated, for some inexplicable reason I trusted Edward. He sat there in front of me, relaying what should be something that I'd immediately second-guess him about, but I just knew that he was telling me nothing but the truth.

"Okay, so this double lock means there are two keys. Got it. So where do we find the second key?"

"That's it? You're not angry or annoyed?"

"No. But I am damn well more confused that I have ever been and considering the current state of things, that's saying something. I wish you would have told me sooner, but I also understand that it can't have been an easy thing to discuss."

Edward slumped in his seat. His shoulders appearing as though he was now free from a weighty burden.

"Do you have any thoughts at all on where we might find the other key?"

"None at the moment. I was hoping you could shed some light on that. Have you ever heard anything that might point us in the right direction?" I shook my head, certain that I had no idea.

Two minutes later we pulled up in the front of the County Courthouse, discussion shelved for the time being so we could address the matter before us at that moment...the deed and the hopeful answers it held for us.

**...**

The woman situated behind the desk appeared to be in her early fifties or possibly a bit older. She had pallid skin, and dull gray-blue eyes. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her head, giving her the appearance of a headmistress from a boarding school. A stern look was plastered on her fer face; she didn't look happy to be there. But being a Friday, I suppose she just wanted the day to be over. She was on the phone and lifted her finger inferring that she would be with us in a moment. So we took our seats and waited for her to finish the call. Taking in the foyer, I noticed it was small and in need of some work (the chairs needed urgent replacing because they were hideously uncomfortable). The computer behind the desk, however, appeared quite new. The LCD screen taking up a majority of the desk space. I had to prevent myself leaning over to Edward and making a comment about local government sparing no expense when it came to their comfort but being thrifty bastards where their constituents were concerned.

Edward had picked up one of the complimentary Reader's Digest magazines that had been placed on the coffee table and was flicking through that, when then woman completed her call and asked us over.

"How can I help you?"

I looked over at Edward and nodded at him, giving him permission to speak on my behalf.

"Hi. Ah, we're here to find out if we can get a copy of the original Title Deed for the first owner of Ms. Swan's property?"

She turned her head to me and asked, "And I take it you would be Ms. Swan?

"Yes. I just moved in and I'm curious to know about the history of my house. My grandfather left it to me. He bought it in 1968 I believe, but I know nothing of it before then. And I'm aware that records of previous owners before the late 90's are not accessible online."

"So you would like an actual hard copy of the certificate of Title?"

"If that can be arranged, yes please. How long does that usually take?"

"We can usually do that for you in an afternoon, provided that we have the file. If you just want to head over to that hallway, turn left and then the first door on your right is the clerk's office. Someone in there should be able to help you."

I thanked her and followed the directions given to me, Edward following behind me. The office comprised of two rooms, one being the reception area and the other the clerk's. I walked up to the lady at the desk; this one being significantly younger with blonde hair and glasses that perched on the end of her nose, and requested to see the clerk and explained the business I had with him. She told me that I was fortunate enough to catch him on a slow morning and I should be able to see him momentarily.

After a few moments, a stocky, balding, middle-aged man greeted me, following Edward and I into his office.

"My name is Rufus. What can I do for you today, Miss...?"

"Swan. My name is Bella Swan," I said as I shook his hand. "And this is my friend Edward." Edward reached across the desk doing the same. "I'm here to get a copy of the Title Deed for my property. I've just recently moved in. My grandfather was the previous owner and he bequeathed me the property. However, I'm unaware of the history of the house before that, and I was hoping the Title Deed might shed some light on that. I'm curious to know the original owner and anyone else who may have owned the property after that but prior to Caius Swan."

"I'll need to run a title search on the property to ascertain the previous grantors. Now you say you grandfather was the most previous owner. I'll need to know when he purchased it and of course the address of the property in question."

"I'm not one-hundred percent certain of the month but I do know that he bought it in 1968. The address is 5839 Fern Hill Road."

I sat there waiting as patiently as I could while Rufus performed the search. After a shorter time than I had anticipated, he looked up and confirmed that he had the volume number of the archive where the Title was stored. I couldn't hide the joy from my face as I glanced at Edward. The anticipatory feeling of being that much closer giving me something to really smile about.

Rufus went on to explain that for a nominal fee a copy could be made of the deed and would be ready for collection later that afternoon. I looked at Edward and asked him what we should do to fill in the time and he suggested we get a bite to eat as it was approaching lunchtime.

I thanked Rufus, and made my way back out to the reception desk where I paid the small fee attached to the service and was told to come back after four p.m when the copy would be available for collection.

Leaving the courthouse with Edward beside me, we had a quick discussion about what to do to fill the time, quickly deciding on grabbing a bite to eat and then perhaps a walk around the general area. We choose a small café on the main street and ordered our meals, the waitress returning quickly with our drinks.

Edward began playing with the straw in his glass, distractedly bobbing and swirling it around. I watched his lithe fingers gently clasp the plastic, twisting and turning it as though it were delicate fine bone china. It had been nice getting to know him this past week, but there was still something elusive about him that created an air of mystery. There was so much more I wanted to know.

"So, Edward," he looked up, his eyes immediately finding my own, "I'm curious. Parapsychology is such a esoteric subject. How did you come to find yourself working in this field?"

The corner of his mouth lifted, his eyes briefly looking down at the table. "I'm not completely sure to tell you the truth. I was just always interested in paranormal phenomena. I watched a lot of shows when I was growing up and everyone had these ridiculous methods of trying to definitively prove the existence of hauntings, ghosts, etcetera. I always felt there was more to it than performing a séance or some other equally non-scientific method. And there's no specialized education for becoming a parapsychologist, so I worked on earning my master's in psychology and then was lucky enough to find myself in a job not long after, in my chosen field."

"There can't be many places that employ people in roles such as yours?"

"True, there isn't. However I'm primarily employed as psychologist that specializes in the areas that I do."

Our meals arrived and between bites of our individual lunches, we continued to discuss our lives, getting to know one another.

I had been putting off asking him something that had been on my mind the past few days, and knew I had to mention it before it was too late to do so. "Edward, there's something that I've been meaning to ask you, or more so apologize for."

"Oh, apologize? What for Bella?" He smirked, seeming maybe surprised or amused by my comment.

"Well since it's unclear how long you'll be here, I just... well I just feel bad that I've dragged you away from the office, even though whatever is happening seems to involve you. I mean, you have a life in San Antonio, and whatever is going on here is keeping you from that. And well... I apologize for disruption."

"Bella," he said, taking on a serious tone, "You haven't ripped me away from anything. I need to be here, just as much you need me here. I mean that. I'm missing nothing so important back home that someone else can't take care of it. My personal and professional interest lies here, and I'm going nowhere until we solve it. Okay?"

I nodded and couldn't help but feel confident that we would indeed solve it, just from the self-assured command that was emanating from him. Finishing up our lunches, we then headed outside. We still had a couple of hours to pass before we could return to collect the papers that would hopefully be a turning point in his investigation.

With neither of us having anything specific that we wanted to do, we settled for simply walking down the main street, looking in the occasional shop. A couple of quaint book stores caught my eye and we both perused the shelves in there, but only I walked out with something new for my poetry collection.

"So I take it you like poetry?"

"Very much. I've always loved to read and write, poetry in particular."

"Have you ever tried to write anything professionally?"

We had reached the corner of the street and I stopped to answer his question. "Poetry, yes, but I've not done anything with it. I write privately, just to vent and explore my creativity. I could never submit my work to anyone. I would maybe like to write something one day... a book maybe." Sighing, I couldn't help but think of Embry. The memory of his petulance and selfishness in addition to his rather milquetoast personality (something I thank retrospect for helping me to see), now only making me feel feelings of pity for him. "My ex-husband is a writer... or was trying to be."

Edward took a moment to reply, and I saw him swallow deeply before asking, "When did you divorce?"

"We split up close to seven months ago now. The paperwork came in not long ago, thankfully."

"Thankfully, huh?" he said with raised eyebrows. "Sounds like things were less than amicable?"

"You could say that. However, I'd rather not sully the rest of the afternoon with talk of my ex. I was hurt, but now I'm just glad that everything is over and I don't have to think about it any more."

"Sounds fair enough to me. I can't say I understand how you feel. I've never married and I've been single for some time now. But for what it's worth, and I'm sure you've been told this before, he's got to be an absolute fool for divorcing you."

I could feel the blush painting my cheek a rosy hue, and dropped my head to avoid being caught reacting this way to the compliment Edward had just bestowed upon me. I mumbled a "thank you" and continued walking, hearing Edward fall into step beside me a moment later.

By the time three-fifty rolled around, I was more than ready to return to the Courthouse to pick up my documents. I had enjoyed Edward's company greatly, but the need to know was burning away at me. My curiosity exponentially increasing with every passing minute.

Walking back into the reception area of the clerk's office, Edward and I took a seat and proceeded to wait until Rufus called us into his office. I was unable to sit still while I waited, which was very unlike me but after readjusting my position on the chair for a third time we were finally called in.

"Bella, Edward. Sorry for keeping you. I do apologize, but unfortunately these things do take time," clasping his hands in front of him atop his desk, he continued "Okay, well I have your copy here and I believe you've already paid the fee?"

I nodded my assent.

"Well in that case, I just need you to sign here and it's all yours."

I signed the paper and was then handed the document. "So this will tell me the original owner and all those between them and my grandfather?"

"Well actually, there were just two owners prior to Mr. Swan. The house was built in the mid 1930s, the name on the deed belonging to a Mr. Edward Masen. It appears he owned the property until, let's see here... 1965. Following that, the property was put back in the hands of the bank trustees. It remained in their hands for a couple of years until your grandfather bought the property in 1968."

I had anticipated there likely only having been one previous owner, but to discover the bank had possibly repossessed the house was certainly interesting. Now having everything I needed to go from here, I stood and addressed Rufus. "Well thank you for going over it with me. I appreciate you taking the time."

"It was my pleasure, Miss Swan. Have a lovely day and weekend. And to you also, Edward. Huh... Edward... you shared the same name as Masen," Rufus chuckled as we left the room.

We walked out to the car in silence, pondering the events that had just taken place. When we were both seated Edward looked at me and asked "So, does the name Masen ring any bells for you?"

"Nope, not a one. I've never heard it before."

"Okay, well we need to head back before it gets too late. The lady at the library mentioned a woman named Mavis that might know details about the town and people who have lived there. Hopefully she'll be able to help."

**...**

We were twenty minutes into the drive, a light smatter of rain was falling gently on the windshield and I noticed flashing lights in the distance. As we drove closer I noticed a small line of cars banking up. Edward began slowing down the vehicle as we approached what was beginning to look like a horrific accident. Though the rain was now falling with more force on the glass, I made out a large semi, rolled over, completely blocking both lanes of the highway. The cabin of the truck was a mangled mess, metal littering the road, the trailer jack-knifed resting precariously on what appeared to be a small car, though not much was left of it. The roof was practically shorn off, jagged pieces of metal jutting out, others strewn across the asphalt. The remainder of the car crushed in a concertina-like effect.

All that was left intact, a bright pink gerbera lying on the blood-stained road, a few feet from the pulverized vehicle.

At the sight of the flower, my mouth instantly went dry, and I had the overwhelming need to be sick. My hand found Edward's arm, and I must have gripped him tightly because he looked over at me and asked, "Bella? What's wrong?"

I could hear the concern in his voice but I couldn't find the words I needed to say to make him aware of what was racing through my mind. I kept trying to speak, I could feel my lips and tongue forming the correct shape for the words but I was unable to make a sound.

Edward gently removed my hand from his arm and held it softly, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles, the soft caress slowly removing whatever barrier had been preventing my ability to talk.

"Bella, it's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay."

Tears began to form in my eyes and my vision began to blur as I finally muttered in a voice that I barely heard myself, "Alice."

Edward kept looking at me for a moment, not understanding why I had said her name, and then a flash of recognition crossed his eyes, and he looked back at the road, to the maelstrom of metal unceremoniously making the middle of the highway its final resting place. "Wait here, okay? I'll be right back."

As Edward got out the car, tears streamed down my face. I could feel them streaking down past my nose and over my lips; the salt hardly registering with me. Without having made a conscious decision, I suddenly found myself out of the car and stumbling toward the twisted wreck, to where I was certain Alice had taken her last breath. There was no way anyone could have survived the disaster that I couldn't seem to tear my eyes from. I needed to see, needed to know and understand what had happened.

"Alice... Jasper...Alice..." My sobs were beyond the point of painful, the heaving, silent tears making it difficult to see in front of me. Something caught on my foot and I felt myself falling to the ground, landing on my knees, my palms skidding on the gravel. The sting ripped through me, but I didn't care. I needed to get back up and go to her. The nearby voices sounded hollow, their volume muted by my desperation to move.

"Get her out of here!"

Arms wrapped around me, grabbing me underneath my own, pulling me backwards, away from where I needed... wanted to be.

"No. Let me go. I need to be there. I need to. Let me..."

"Bella, Bella. Shhh." Soft fingers traced through my hair and down my back, "It's okay Bella. They're safe."

"No... no... no..." I heard the words but they didn't make sense. There was no way they were safe. That was Alice's car. Only Alice had that silly pink gerbera.

"Sssh. It's okay. Take a deep breath and let it out. Everything's okay. They're both okay." Again the soothing voice beckoned me to relax. Something inside of me that had attuned to that voice, knew that I need to heed his words.

He placed his hands on my cheeks, cupping them almost reverently, and turned my head to look at him, "Bella, this was not Alice's car. She and Jasper are fine. A young woman and her daughter on their way to Seattle were killed by the truck crossing highway lines. The daughter died on impact and the woman, on the way to the hospital."

"You – you're sure?" I muttered, still barely able to get the words out, "because Alice has a car just like that. One of those Beetles."

"I'm positive, Bella. I've spoken to the emergency services and the guy told me as much as he could. Come on, we need you get you back in the car. You're soaking wet."

I hadn't even noticed at that point that I was indeed saturated right through, the rain no longer having registered with me from the moment I stepped out of the car. Edward mentioned something about not being able to return home that night because the roads would be blocked until the next morning. He helped me into his car and he grabbed a jacket from the back seat. I wrapped it tight around my body immediately feeling respite from the bitter wet and cold; my mind, however, was a torrent of distress much like the angry droplets pounding the windshield.

**...**

**The length of this chapter will need to hold you over while I take some time to write the next chapter up. I never intended, nor will I, write an update of this length again. My brain needs some serious recharging. **

**For those unaware, I'm offering to write an outtake of your choosing for the FGB Auction. Contact me for details if you're interested.  
**

**Til next time, thank you for reading. **


	11. Into The Vortex

**[insert standard 'I don't own' disclaimer here]**

**Readers, thank you once again for you patience. I appreciate it immensely as I bring together all the elements of the story, particularly as things are reaching fever pitch. **

**I must thank alonelily for her guidance and hand holding, she really does cop the brunt of an endless barrage of questions. Thank you, bb. Also to my pre readers, bellalove72 and 1 Brave Lamb, both of you provide me with the help I need to make sure I cover all bases and that everything makes sense. **

**...**

**Into the Vortex**

**Edward**

The kind and gentle features of the old man behind the desk smiled up at me as he handed over a set of keys to the suite I'd just secured for the night. After thanking him for his hospitality, I turned my head over my shoulder and took in Bella's limp and exhausted body curled up in the passenger seat. The rain had eased some, but it was still drizzling when I pulled into the parking lot of the inn, so I parked close to the reception office and left the car idling while I secured our accommodation for the night.

"Your wife, is she okay?" The man politely questioned, no doubt concerned about the scene in front of him.

"She's not my wife. We're just friends," I muttered as I continued taking in Bella's slumped body from inside the small office.

"Well she looks like she's had a harrowing night, the poor thing. You really should get her in out of that car. She looks like she could use a rest." His voice was thick with obvious concern for the sight before him, but a subtle smile revealed he was questioning something I had said, though what that was I had no idea.

He gave me the directions to find the suite and I thanked him once again, grateful that I had found a place in unfamiliar surroundings that not only was available, but that offered two-room suites. I was sure that Bella would've been fine in a room of her own, but given the state she was in, I felt better knowing she was close by should she need something or someone. Exiting the office, I stepped off the veranda and was hit by a light spray of rain as I walked around to the driver's side and climbed in, driving the car the few yards to the allotted space for the suite.

Bella was still hugging her legs to her chest, though her breathing had evened out and she was no longer wracked with the sobs that had agonized the short trip to the inn. Debating whether to coax her from her secure cocoon now or wait until I was around her side of the vehicle, I decided it was best to give her a few moments while I opened the door to the room and made certain everything was suitable for the evening.

Returning to the car, I opened the door and squatted before Bella. Her hair was covering the left side of her face, but I didn't need to see the tear tracks to know she had been crying. Her sniffles were soft but still evident in the violet quiet of the late evening.

"Bella, sweetheart, I've got a room for the evening. One for each of us. Here, let me help you inside. Come on." I gently placed my hand on the back of her arm to guide her inside. She looked up from her knees, her eyes reflecting a loneliness and sorrow that couldn't be quantified by words. My heart ached at the sight before me. I knew I was beginning to feel something for this woman, but I couldn't determine if it was because I was empathetic toward her situation, or if there was something else brewing between us.

Helping her out the car, we walked toward the room, Bella's arm wrapped around her body as if to keep herself together. I was becoming increasingly worried for her as this evening and the investigation as a whole continued. I didn't expect anything less than the embattled state she was in, however, the feelings I was starting to have for her flooded me with a level of concern that I'd not had with any prior clients.

A couch was situated just inside the room and I led her over to it, pushing the door shut behind me. Helping her get seated, I left her momentarily to get her a glass of water, and a blanket from the closet. She had mostly dried from being out in the rain earlier, but she continued to shiver, be it from the cold or emotional stress I was unsure. I assumed both. I sat down beside her, torn over doing what I could to comfort her or giving her space. We still didn't really know each other all that well, and I didn't want to make her uncomfortable by pushing the boundaries of our professional relationship too much.

We sat there somewhat awkwardly for a short while. Every now and then I caught myself reaching out toward her arms, wanting to rub them in an offer of comfort, but dropping them back to the seat certain that I'd push her away in her already fragile state.

Lost in my thoughts about how I could help her, I almost missed the resigned sigh that Bella emitted before hesitantly standing and walking toward the adjoining room. She placed her hand on the door jamb to steady herself and turned to look back at me.

"I appreciate everything you've done for me tonight, Edward. Thank you for... just thank you." She nodded softly then entered the room, moving to close the door.

"Bella," I said, having not planned anything before my mouth decided to speak. "If you need anything, please don't hesitate to come and get me. I mean it." And I did.

She smiled, her eyes still a hollow, sad window but there was a faint gleam in them that gave me hope that she'd be okay. The door closed behind her, and I was left to my devices for the remainder of the night, certain that would be the last time I'd see her til morning.

**Bella**

The ceiling of the hotel room was bathed in a silvery light sheen from the moon. An opalescent glow revealing some peeling paint in the corner held my interest while I struggled to find the sleep that my body desperately craved. My mind was awash with images of crumpled vehicles, and phantom screams from broken bodies stuck in a steel purgatory. Tossing and turning, I struggled with the dichotomous emotions that surged through my mind: relief that my best friends were safe, but tormented that a mother and her child had perished in such an horrific manner.

**...**

Wind rushes over my ears causing my hair to caress my cheeks, while the perfume of freshly cut grass invades my senses, spurring my childlike joy of an afternoon spent on the tire swing in the front yard. My attention is captured by the lone figure standing in the entry of my house. He smiles, then lifts his hand and waves at me. I smile back, enraptured by the attention he lathers on me. I call out to him, and he offers a playful grin in return, eliciting a giggle that bubbles up from deep within me. I slip out of the swing and walk toward the porch, toward the man whose very presence generates the hum that courses throughout my body. As I step off the grass, his beseeching eyes capture mine and I'm willingly trapped in his unyielding gaze.

He extends his arm out to greet me and I step into the house, anticipating the enveloping feel of his embrace. But as soon as he is within reach, he steps back and turns on his heel ascending the stairs. "Edward!" I cry out, but get no response, his name vacant and strangely foreign on my tongue. He continues climbing, seemingly unaware of my persistent attempts to regain his attention. In my haste, I clamor up the stairs behind him, but with each step closer, he moves farther away. I desperately reach out for him, worry coursing over every pore of my body as I grasp at nothing but empty air.

At the top of the stairs I find him in front of the unused bedroom. He turns his head and his eyes find mine once again. Only this time, they're not the calming green I've grown so accustomed to. Instead, they're a torrid black: stormy and piercing. His stare ensnares me, and a foreboding chill rips through my stomach. The corner of his mouth lifts, his face morphing from the gentle, handsome man that has befriended me, to something vaguely nefarious. With his hand hidden behind him, he twists the doorknob and opens into the room. His head cocks to the side indicating I should come closer, but he retreats into the room leaving me torn and confused. Do I stay in the relative safety of the hallway or follow him into the unknown?

His pull is too strong and I surrender to it. With shaking limbs I step forward, crossing over the threshold, to confront what is hidden inside. Immediately, I'm thrown back against the wall, my limbs pinned beside me. I'm unable to move. A heavy weight slams into me, forcing the air out of my lungs. I can't breathe. I feel as though I've swam to the surface of the ocean too fast, my lungs struggling to regulate. I gasp for air, sucking down heaving gulps, but my throat is blocked. It won't reach my lungs.

Edward stands in front of me, his arms outstreched, a desperate and pained plea for help etched on his face. A violent onyx haze imprisons him, blanketing the room with a malevolent aura. His body folds in on itself as his stomach is sucked tightly against his spine. I muster all my strength and struggle to detach myself from the wall, but I remain frozen in place. I try to scream but have no voice, no energy.

The centripetal force of the swirling black mass sucks Edward's body further away from me. Hollow screams erupt from him and his arms strain to reach me, his voice and body pleading with me to help in some way. But with each breath, each scream, the tornadic mass continues to expand, pulsing in and out before it envelops him completely, encasing him in a spinning vortex of chaos that plunges him into darkness before it wraps in on itself and disappears completely, leaving the room empty and still.

I remain fastened to the wall, stuck in its venus-flytrap grip. I am numb, paralyzed, the only feeling I have are the hot tracks of the tears on my face, remnants of my silent sobs.

**...**

The room begins to shake and I feel as though I'm being thrown around. My name sounds in the distance beckoning me to respond. I try to call out, but feel weighted down by something. My eyes refuse to co-operate. I hear my name again, louder and closer this time. Attempting to open my eyes once more, a muted light pierces the darkness. A shadowy figure beside me moves in closer, I feel a warm hand clasp my shoulder. I blink rapidly, trying to clear the murkiness of my vision.

I can hear a familiar voice, but no discernible words. My vision slowly clears and I see Edward's worried countenance. His words finally become clear, his voice strained with concern.

"Bella. Bella, sweetheart. I'm here, you're not alone. It was just a dream. It's okay. Everything is okay."

I reach out to touch him. I need to feel him, to know that he really is there, that he's not a figment of my imagination. The thought that he might not really be there creates a block in my throat that is suffocating. My hand makes contact with the one that is gently but firmly grasping my shoulder bringing me an instant sense of relief. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I conclude that he must have been shaking me to awaken me from my nightmare. My grip on him tightens and I cling to him, desperation seeping from my pores. Images of Edward being swallowed by blackness invade my mind, and a shudder rolls through my body. The idea that I'd be left alone again before I know what is happening is something I refuse to entertain. Living alone in that house causes a sorrow to envelop my mind. A desolate, lonely emotion I can't place tethers me to his body. I mold myself to his chest, his scent calms me and I feel at peace almost immediately. The comfort his closeness brings me is heightened by his utterance, "I'm not going anywhere Bella, I'll stay here with you until you wake." Running his fingers lightly through my hair, he continues, "Sleep now, Bella. I'll take care of you, I promise."

My eyes close and I drift off, safe in the knowledge that Edward will not leave me alone.

**...**

The return drive home was uneventful. The weather had cleared up overnight and there was little evidence that a fatal accident had shattered the normally quiet, tranquil road. The atmosphere of the car was stilted; an awkwardness suspending our attempts at conversation. When I'd awoken, Edward's arms had been wrapped around my back with my head resting on his chest. Our legs were entangled together, amid the mess of sheets. Edward woke not long after me, our eyes darting in every which direction, avoiding the compromising position we'd found ourselves in. We'd dressed in haste, both eager to get on the road, and exchanged little in the way of words, save for the general morning greetings that etiquette required.

For most of the drive home, I looked out the window, lost to the hypnotic greens that flew by. The discovery we made yesterday didn't factor in my mind as something immediately pressing. Instead all my mind could focus on was the harrowing fear of being left alone in my nightmare, then the strange yet almost-welcoming comfort of waking in Edward's arms. I pressed that thought out of mind immediately and let my mind drift to the more significant need of seeing my family and friends. Some irrevocable change happened on that trip. What it meant, I did not know, but I could feel it as one feels a shift in the changing of the seasons.

"Edward, would you mind if when we get back to Forks, I drop you off at the house? I need to see Alice and my father. I just... that dream of whatever it was... it was horrible and I need to see my friends and family. I won't be gone long..." With every word I was becoming increasingly anxious. Images of last night pulsed though my mind. I needed to calm myself but I wasn't sure how.

"Bella. Bella," Edward pleaded, placing his free hand on my arm. "It's fine. You should go and see them. I'll be quite okay at the house. Would you like me to drop you off somewhere?"

"No. Just take us back to the house and then I'll take my car. I think a few minutes drive will be good for me. I need some time alone to clear my head."

"Are you're sure you'll be okay? You had a rough night and you still look a little peaked."

"Edward! I'll be fine," I said; my voice at fever pitch. I was exhausted and hungry, but I didn't know why I was raising my voice at the one person who had been nothing but patient with me. "I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from."

"Bella, really it's okay. Please don't worry about it."

Arriving back at the house a short while later, Edward followed me inside. After fetching my own keys, I informed him that I wasn't sure when I'd be back and that in my absence he was free to do whatever was necessary if he was going to be working. Edward mentioned he likely would be going back up to the attic. That room still represented a pervasive unsavory feeling, but at the moment I preferred that he be there instead of the room that was adjacent to mine. As though my eyes were actively seeking out their target, they locked on the door to the room just as I was thinking about it. Logically I knew it was a dream, but it was so intense, so visceral that the thought of him going anywhere near there sent a chill racing down my spine.

Edward must have noticed the way I was staring, because he asked me if I was okay.

"Um, yeah. Yeah I'm okay. Can you just do me one favor? Please - just don't go into the spare room for now. I know that must sound strange, but I can't explain it now. I just need your word."

His eyes followed mine, his brows furrowing when he realized the intended target. "You have my word, Bella. But I'm going to need more. I won't ask now, but you will need to tell me soon."

I didn't have the energy to debate the issue with him, so I nodded and told him I'd leave him to it. After closing the front door behind me, I made my way around the side of the house to where my car was parked.

**...**

Pulling into the driveway of my father's house, I noticed him in the backyard raking errant leaves into a small pile. I remembered how I used to play in the leaves, enjoying the crunch of a particularly dry one, and giggling from the sound and the way it would splinter into tiny pieces. I could recall clearly the beaming smile my dad would give me when I used to help with the gardening, only to muck it up afterward by ruining all the hard work he'd done. I sat in my car, continuing to watch my dad work and reminiscing on my childhood when I heard him curse quite loudly. I watched as the leaves swirled around him as a sudden turbulent wind kicked up, and I was immediately back there... the image of Edward trapped in the blackness, screaming and pained. It had haunted me since awakening the next morning, but it was the strength of desperation that I felt for him that was always at the forefront of my mind. We'd grown friendly over the past two weeks and I was certainly more comfortable around him, but the feelings felt different than general amiability for someone. I couldn't understand the origin or reasons for the change. I was ripped from my musings when one of the brilliantly colored leaves landed on my windshield, eclipsing the profile of my dad.

As I stepped out of the car, my father looked up from his work and waved in greeting. I sent him back one and walked over to where he stood, his diligent work now strewn about him; a torrent of reds and oranges lying haphazardly about the yard.

"Hey Dad, how's it going?"

"Bells," he said, leaning over and planting a kiss on my cheek. "Same old Saturday around here. Not a whole lot happening. What about you?"

"Work's keeping me busy. But that's about it really." I was being evasive with him and that was not something I was proud of, but I knew my father of all people would not believe anything that was happening. He would swear that I was imagining it, or that it was the stress of work of some other external cause. He'd always been cynical of anything remotely otherworldly; even Eastern medicine was something he balked at. If he couldn't see the evidence or healing benefits immediately in front of him, he considered it hocus-pocus.

"You want to come in for a while, have a drink with your old man?

"Sure, Dad."

For the next hour we talked about everything and nothing. Dad went on and on about his latest fishing haul. I nodded, but really I didn't understand his fervent love of the sport. I used to tag along when I was little, just enjoying spending time with my daddy, but as I grew up I began to find interest in other things: books primarily, and they took up a good chunk of any spare time I had.

We'd been sitting in front of the TV when a news break came on that covered the accident from yesterday.

"Such a horrible thing that was. A few friends of mine over in Port Angeles were called out to assist. They said it was horrific."

"Yeah, I know. I saw it," I mumbled. I hadn't planned on telling dad about it, but when the news break mentioned it I found myself talking before my brain caught up.

"You were there? Bella, I don't understand."

"I went to Port Angeles yesterday. I wanted to get the original copy of the Deed for the house and on my way back we were stopped by emergency services. It was so awful Dad. We had to go back to town and get a room for the night. The road was closed until sometime early this morning."

"Oh baby. I'm so sorry you had to see that. Accidents are always horrible horrible things, but when they're fatal... just, well I know how upsetting it can be to see one." Charlie looked down, as though in solemn prayer, but then tilted his head to the side, "We? Someone was with you?"

Sighing, knowing exactly where this was headed I replied, "I was with a friend. His name is Edward and he's kind of new to town and when I told him that the drive took about an hour, he asked if I wanted company. I agreed and he came with me." Charlie nodded and took a long pull from his beer, eyeing me speculatively. "Oh, go on, ask it. I can see you're busting to pull out the dad card."

After a sly but knowing chuckle he responded, "So is he just a friend?"

Unable to help a giggle erupting from my throat, I allowed it die down before replying, "Yes dad, he's just a friend. Edward's a lovely guy but he's actually from out of state. He's just here for a while and will then be going back to Texas."

"Oh, what's he here for?"

Unsure how to answer, I didn't say anything but then dad asked again.

"Ah sorry dad, got sidetracked. Um business. I'm pretty sure he's here for business. I've not really spoken with him much about that stuff."

"Well before you go gallivanting off to other places unknown next time, can you please make sure you know more about him. I don't feel comfortable knowing you're hanging around someone you hardly know."

Acquiescing, I nodded. He smiled and went back to watching whatever was on the television.

Guilt seeped into every pore of my body. I felt sick for having been dishonest with my father, and I tried unsuccessfully to console myself with the knowledge that he'd scoff at the real story, and likely barge over to my house and demand that Edward leave. After trying to quell the churning in my stomach created from my white lie, I left dad with whatever sport was on TV knowing he'd likely be there for the remainder of the afternoon. I drove across town to Alice's place, stopping to get a late lunch on the way. Taking a sip of my juice, I pulled into Alice's but her car wasn't in the driveway. That wasn't unusual because sometimes Jasper would borrow it to run an errand. Rather than get out to knock on her door though, I pulled out my phone and called her.

"Bella, honey what's up?"

"Alice hey. I'm actually sitting in the car out the front of your house. From the sounds in the background, I take it you're not home?"

"No. Jas and I decided to stay over in Seattle an extra night. Oh my goodness Bella, I cannot tell you how beautiful the room Jas got us is. I couldn't leave. I begged Jas to get us another night here. Oh and the shopping. I have done some huge damage to the credit card in Macy's. Jas is going to kill me," she giggled. I could hear Jasper in the background asking her why he was going to kill her, Alice replying in a sickly sweet "nothing to worry yourself about honey."

"I'm so glad you're having a nice weekend, Alice. That's really great."

"Oh Bella, I'm sorry. I got completely sidetracked telling you about my weekend. How's yours been?"

"Um, fine I guess. I just needed to get out of the house for while and you know... I hadn't seen you in a week or so and just thought we could catch up. But we'll have to do that next week some time."

"You're sure? You're kinda quiet Bella. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah yeah. Everything's fine. I've just had a long couple of days. But you enjoy yourself and I'll see you when you get back. We'll grab some lunch or something."

"Consider it done. Okay well Jas wants to go look at some military memorial, so I guess I better be fair and let him have his fun. We'll talk soon. Bye Bella.

After saying goodbye to her, I hung up and reversed the car out of her driveway and began the drive home.

**...**

Music carried on the breeze as I stepped out of the car. The lilting notes of the familiar classic tune swarmed my mind, an accompanying buzz flitted across my skin while I was standing by the curtained bay window to the reading room. The heavy drapery prevented me from seeing into the room, but I assumed that Edward was inside playing the music on the CD player.

Humming along to the music, I jumped in too soon and began to sing the lyrics I had come to know better than any current popular piece of music. Stopping to come in at the right time, I waited but the crooning voice of the man with the tenor voice did not cut in.

Something about this music wasn't right. It seemed hollow, discordant. A nervous feeling invaded my stomach, the churning sensation gravitating north toward my face. My skin felt tight: silk stretched taut across bone. My skin began to clam, the moisture beading on my forehead running down the side of my face. My heart was beating faster than a hummingbird's wings.

The dread that something was amiss was perplexing. There was no basis for the assumption that something was wrong, but my reaction told me differently. My thoughts focused on Edward, zooming in on the dream and the disquieting unease that something was out to get him. Something inside my house.

I ran around to the front door, managing to open it in my haste after two fumbled attempts. Dropping my bag, and not bothering to shut the door properly behind me, I raced down the hallway, stumbling over my feet to get the room. One of the double doors remained closed, but the other was slightly ajar; the dim light of the lamp illuminating the opposite wall. I stood before the room, regaining my composure and breath before gently pushing open the door.

Edward was seated at the piano, his head bowed in deference to the grand instrument before him. His shoulders hunched slightly, a display of complete concentration. But it was his fingers that captured my heated gaze. The way they danced across the ivory, completely at ease with the music he was creating.

Taking a step into the room, I immediately felt constrained by some invisible block. The room no longer held the welcoming but quiet ambiance that I was accustomed to. The negative energy permeated the atmosphere, striving to keep me from the piano and from Edward, who sat, near motionless, playing the same song over and again. My throat and mouth felt dessicated from the shock of the sight in front of me. I tried calling out to him, but managed no more than a harsh whisper that wilted as soon as it communed with the air. He hadn't noticed my entrance and remained lost in song.

I moved forward slowly. With each step I took, the energy between me and my destination pulsed with a blanket-like fog. My vision remained clear, but the air between us was thick with tension. Something was trying to keep me from getting to Edward, but I forced my way through, pushing beyond the cogent influence.

When I finally made it across the room and stood at the end of the piano bench facing Edward, it was immediately apparent why he was not aware of my presence. His features were scrunched tightly, a pained grimace making his normally warm countenance appear possessed by something akin to intense abhorrence. The muscles in his jaw twitched; his fingers strained, almost white as they ran the length of the keys.

Unable to tear my eyes from Edward, I tried once again to capture his attention, but my throat remained dry and sparse of words.

The final note of the song rang out echoing around the room. I held my breath waiting for some sign of awareness from Edward, but before any real break in the music could be signified, the opening notes played again, Edward's concentration not ceasing for one moment.

Towards the climax of the song, I watched in awe as Edward's fingers floated across the piano. Whatever hold he was entrenched so deeply in, something or someone wanted him to play this particular tune. My focus centered on the sounds he was producing, listening to the clean, precise notes. On one of the final notes of the piece, Edward's fingers graced over the keys, slowing toward the culmination of yet another recital, but a discordant note rang out shattering the perfection of the previous three minutes. A dull yet heavy clang ripped me from my sangfroid state. I looked up at Edward, his face showing no awareness of the sound that splintered the flawless performance.

With one hand atop the piano, I tentatively reached out to him before he began playing once more. I had barely reached his shoulder, when I felt myself propelling forward toward him. I put my hands out in front of me to break to fall, before slamming into Edward hard, throwing him off the bench and onto the hardwood floor. I landed across his body, causing a grunt to burst from his mouth. I scrambled desperately to free him of my body. His eyes unfocused and blinking rapidly he took in the scene before him, I heard him mumble, "Bella?"

Not sure of my ability to speak, I cleared my throat hoping that whatever was preventing speech before had now dissipated. "Edward, I'm so sorry. Let me help you up." I placed an arm behind his shoulders and guided him to sitting position.

Croaking, Edward asked, "What happened? And what am I doing in here?"

I wasn't at all surprised he couldn't remember, given the trance-like state he was in. "Edward, I came home and found you in here, playing the piano as if your very life depended on it."

Shaking his head, Edward responded, "What? That doesn't... I can't. The piano. I don't know how to play."

"I know, and that's why I'm as confused as you right now. You were playing As Time Goes By. You knew every single key and played it to perfection, numerous times. But the last note just sounded off. And then as I was reaching out to you, hoping to bring you out of the trance you were in, I slipped and fell into you."

Edward looked from me to the piano, utterly confused with the story I was telling. He appeared genuinely disoriented and almost disbelieving of my words. The feeling that something just was not right continued to roil inside me. It was more than just the spell that Edward had been under, it was the ominous feeling cloaking the room, the sound that the key had made.

Glancing behind me to the offending antique, curiosity mounted as to what had caused the inharmonious sound. While I had no musical ability, I was aware enough to realize that something was not right. I stood and upturned the bench, taking a seat on it and hovering my fingers above the keys. I began at the far end of the piano and began working toward the middle, each note sounding as it was intended. I was beginning to think that I had imagined the sound, lost in my own hazy spell when upon placing my finger on one of the keys in the middle of the piano, the elusive sound rang out, creating a deeper, out of tune noise that resonated within me as the one I was looking for. I pressed it once more and heard the same sound. Then hitting it rapidly a third, fourth and fifth time, again nothing changed.

Standing from the bench, I walked around to the side of the piano to where I could lift the lid. It was heavy, but not unbearably so. I propped it open so that it wouldn't fall. Peering inside, nothing immediately seemed out of place, but because I was relatively short this didn't surprise me. I dragged the bench around the best vantage point and knelt on top of it, looking over all the strings and various other pieces of the instrument. There was something close to the middle of the piano that was reflecting the light from the overhead lamp. I reached out for it, but my arm span didn't allow me to reach far enough.

"Edward, I think there might be something here. Do you think you could help me reach it?"

He nodded and stumbled to his feet, making his way over to me.

"Can you see that thing shining in there, just behind those strings. Can you reach in and get it?"

I watched his arm stretch into the vast cavern of the piano, his long fingers deftly negotiating the strings to retrieve the curious object.

"Oh Jesus, Bella. I think I've found it!" His voice was rich and excited. His words came out in a blur, almost too fast to make any semblance of sense.

"Found what?"

"The second key." Edward removed his hand, which was now held in a tight fist and uncoiled it before me to reveal an aged, brass skeleton key. "It was dangling from one of the piano strings, just as you'd said." Edward appeared to be excited with the discovery, and began rambling on about going upstairs now and opening the chest. But I stood steadfast, scrutinizing the key, wondering why it had been in the piano all this time, and just what would happen when we opened the chest; if that was indeed what the key would allow. The possibility of opening some kind of Pandora's Box was never far from my mind, and though I desperately sought answers, the nerves of finding them won out.

I grabbed onto Edward's wrist, "Edward, I don't know. I mean, what if this key does open the chest but whatever is inside only makes things worse?"

"Bella," Edward replied, his voice laced with calming tones. "Can it really get any worse than it has been? Now, before you answer, I want you to really think about it. You're scared to live in your own house. That's no way to live. Besides, whatever turns up has to be better than what you know now. Be it for the good or bad. An answer of some kind is better than none at all."

I knew this to be sound advice, and I was certain that Edward would not intentionally lead me astray. I nodded my agreement and allowed him to take me by the hand, walking out of the room.

**...**

Walking up the final few stairs into the attic, the pervasive murky scent irritated my nose. I followed behind Edward who had both keys in his hand, having fetched the other and a torch from his bag before ascending the stairs. I lagged a few steps behind him, and he must have noticed because he held out his hand to me in an offer of support. I gladly took it, needing all the inner strength I could muster. We made our way over to the chest, Edward taking the far side after I knelt down on the side closest to the exit.

Edward's outstretched hand placed the key into my palm. "I'm making an assumption here, but I imagine we're supposed to turn both the keys at the same time. So when you're ready, we'll unlock it, okay?"

Swallowing deeply to rid myself of my last vestiges of any nerves, I pronounced, "I'm ready."

We placed each of our keys into the respective locks and locked eyes with one another.

"Bella, on the count of three, okay?"

Nodding, he began counting down.

"Three, two, one."

A loud click reverberated, both locks simultaneously declaring their freedom. Inhaling deeply, I released the breath in a whoosh. My thoughts were racing, but I was certain that the next few minutes could be a momentous turning point - not only for the investigation of the house, but for Edward and by extension, myself.

Edward looked at me, his eyes asking if he could go ahead and open the chest. I was too nervous to assist but gently nodded my assent. I looked down into my lap, twisting my fingers around, keen to be anywhere but there at that moment.

A loud creaky groan sounded as Edward lifted the lid. I was instantly overwhelmed with a dank odor, but one oddly accompanied by the faint scent of something vaguely flowery. Curious as to what may retain such a smell after so long not having been exposed to oxygen, I looked up from my lap and into the chest.

Before me lay a colorful crocheted blanket; a tapestry of blue, yellow and white yarn. Shocked that something so benign and motherly had been kept hidden, I looked up at Edward and found him to be just as flummoxed as myself. I placed my hands inside the chest and took hold of the carefully wrapped blanket, lifting it out of the chest. Underneath where it had lain were soft toys, and what looked like baby clothes wrapped in a protective film.

As I was bringing the blanket closer to me, a wad of something small fell from its middle onto the floor. Edward moved from around the opposite side closer to me, picking up the parcel and eyeing it curiosity. I placed the blanket down on my lap and asked Edward, "What do you have there?"

"I don't know. It looks like a bunch of letters maybe. I can't see the front very well, but I think there might be something written on them. Hang on, I'm going to turn on the flashlight." Centering the light from the flashlight over the front of the package, he read aloud, " Capt Edward Masen, Snr. 517th Parachute Infantry Regiment (517th PIR)."

Edward was unable to open the envelope without untying a piece of string holding the bundle together, but after doing this, he then removed the envelope and handed the remaining letters over to me. He flipped over the letter and careful not to tear any of the paper, ran his thumb under the lip of the envelope, unsticking the seal. He gently removed the letter from its confines and opened it, shining the flashlight down onto the parchment, he read:

_"My best beloved,_  
_Lots to tell you, as I didn't write yesterday (February 24, 1944)._  
_Joy of joys, I have discovered that I'm expecting. Doctor Lindman believes that I am five months along. A June baby, just in time for the summer. Oh how I wish you could be here to take joy in this news with me. Darling, I just know that this time it will happen. We will have our little boy and finally have the happy family we have so long dreamed for._  
_Since my last appointment, I have bought some things for us. And I have begun crocheting the most lovely blanket for the baby when he arrives. Mrs. Fisher gave me the pattern. And you will never guess, she is also with child. Oh Edward, I do so miss you and I long for you to be home again. No doubt we will have to be patient with each other, as this war has altered us both. I jolly well know I've changed, and I expect you have too!_  
_Well beloved, I must go to sleep now._  
_God bless you and keep you,_  
_All my love,_  
_Elizabeth xxx"_

**...**

**I promised you some answers this chapter, and there is you first major one.**

**As a gift to you all, I'm posting this on my birthday. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, as much as I enjoyed writing it. That being said, it damn near killed my brain, but all in all, it was an enjoyable experience, and I'm glad to finally give you something that should help with your theories about what is going on.**


	12. A Crimson Stain

**I don't own. You all know this by now. **

**I have to give a shout out to luvmytwins for their wonderful and insightful reviews. Thank you.  
**

**Endless gratitude to the usual suspects: alonelily and bellalove72 for their guidance and kind words. Thank you is never enough.**

**...**

**A Crimson Stain.**

**Bella**

A barren silence hung in the air, choking the still room. Edward held the letter in his hands, unmoved from his position. Neither of us had spoken since he finished recalling the words on the page. I'm not sure what I expected to be in the letters, but I was certain I had never anticipated they would be love letters from a forlorn wife missing her husband at war.

Clutching the blanket in my hands, I opened it from its neatly folded shape, admiring the craftsmanship of the work that had so obviously gone into making it. Whoever Elizabeth was, she had diligently crocheted it, having gone to great lengths to make sure it was perfect. I lay it across my lap, smoothing out the creases. Something about this blanket instilled in me a feeling of acute love. It wasn't precisely romantic, nor was it wholly maternal. It seemed to hang somewhere between the two, as though I was channelling two very comparable yet conflicting emotions.

The small bundle of what I presumed was more letters lay not far from my knees. As I reached over to pick it up, Edward did the same. When our fingers connected, we both broke the heavy silence simultaneously.

"I was just going to..." Edward's voice was hoarse, as though waking from anesthesia.

"Sorry, you go..."

"No, that's okay. You..."

"Edward, really you should read them," I said nodding to show my complete accord. "But perhaps we should read them downstairs where the light is better?"

Agreeing that it was best to move, Edward stood and held out his hand to me. I gathered the blanket, laying it across the crook of my elbow and accepted his proffered hand. He turned and moved us for the stairs, when I remembered we had left the chest open.

Slipping my hand from his engulfing embrace, I turned back for the chest and removed the keys. After I lowered the lid, I heard the soft click of the locks engaging resound and I returned to my place beside Edward, his hand instantly finding mine once more as we descended the stairs together.

**...**

"_My dearest Edward,_  
_How I long to hear from you. To know that you are taking as much joy in our happy news as I am. I worry for you every day. The news on the wireless reports of frequent captures of American soldiers. You assured me you would be safe when you left, but darling, I am so very concerned. I fear something will happen to you and you will not return to your family."_

Edward's voice trailed off as he held the aged letter in his hands. I watched as he continued to read down the page, his eyes glassing over as he scanned the words from a devoted and loving wife. The return to sender mark that stained the envelope signaled that Elizabeth's husband had not received her correspondence. Nothing we had read yet revealed that he was aware she was pregnant while he was fighting in the War.

I curled my knees under myself as I sat beside Edward on the couch and picked up the remaining parcel, pulling a letter from the middle. Turning it over, I perused the yellowing envelope. The address field was left blank, which I considered odd given that all the letters we had previously gone through were marked for postage to a regiment in Europe somewhere. Flipping this one over, I unstuck the seal and removed the letter.

The cursive penmanship was quite obviously feminine though the ink had bled in places, leaving small misshapen forms that resembled tiny Rorschach tests.

I reached over to Edward, who was still looking down at the letter in his hands. His thick mop of hair fell forward, eclipsing his eyes, though from his posture and and eerie silence it was clear he had been profoundly affected by the letters.

Seeking to offer some kind of comfort, I placed my hand on his arm. He turned his head toward me, and looked up blankly. His normally intoxicating eyes were injected with a desolate emptiness, like that of an arid field plagued by a harsh and unending drought. Seeing him so viscerally affected by the heartfelt and personal mementos from a wife to her husband, I gave him what I hoped was a comforting smile and drew his attention to the letter in my hands.

"This one didn't have a postal mark. I was about to read it if you want to continue?"

Edward simply nodded, and weakly returned my smile.

"'_My child, _  
_I have not long ago discovered that I am carrying you. When the doctor informed me I was with child, I was overjoyed. I look forward to meeting you every day._' Oh my! Edward, she wrote to her baby as well." I immediately felt as though I was intruding on something that did not concern me. I was in two minds over what I should do. One voice was telling me that I should not continue reading - that it was not my business - however, the dominate voice in my mind encouraged me to read on, to seek out the mystery of the chest and discover what it meant for both Edward and me.

"Bella, are you alright?" Edward's soothing voice broke through the engulfing tide of guilt I felt, bringing me back to the moment. "You stopped reading. Do you not want to go on?"

"No. I mean yes, I do want to keep going. I just feel like I'm violating Elizabeth's privacy, you know?"

"I understand that Bella, but if we're going to uncover anything that might shed some light on... well everything, we need to do this." Edward's voice displayed a tone of surety and confidence that this was the right decision. In a gesture that revealed to me that he supported and understood the difficulty I was having, Edward took my hand in his, clasping our fingers together.

With a steely breath, I continued reading the letter:

"'_I sit every day in this room that in five months will be yours, dreaming about holding you in my arms as I rock you to sleep in this rocking chair. Your father will be so proud of you. For so long we have pined for a child and now we will have you and together we will be a happy family. I have decided to name you Edward, for I am positive that I am carrying a boy.' _Folding the letter, I placed it upon my knees, unable to continue reading. I needed a moment to compose myself. The letter was just too infused with love, and it was clear just how much Elizabeth cherished her unborn baby. The truth of the revelation stung as thoughts of my own mother overwhelmed me, lancing my now brittle state.

The strength of Elizabeth's feelings was evident in her words, weakening my mercurial emotions. Toiling with my increasing inability to contain myself, I shuffled my knees out from under me, giving in to a sudden need to move away, to be anywhere but on the couch surrounded by such a potent and unmistakable love.

I stepped away to leave the room when I felt Edward's hand clasp my arm, preventing me from moving any further. I looked back at him, as he caught a lone tear on his finger as it traveled down my cheek.

"It's Elizabeth's letter to her baby, isn't it? It reminds you of your mother?"

Nodding, more tears began trailing down my cheeks. I tried to catch them but the powerful emotions blazing through me made that near impossible.

Turning to hide my face in embarrassment, I felt myself pulled into Edward's embrace. Comfort swept through my body as I allowed myself to be molded against his chest; his bold move a welcome advance to my weakening resolve. I threw my arms around him and he whispered that everything would be all right. I tried to rein in my tears but with those words, I couldn't keep myself together any longer. My knees buckled, giving way from under me, Edward's arms grappling to keep me upright. My fused eyes were unable to stem the flow of tears freely departing their ducts. Gathering me in his arms, Edward brought me the few steps back to the couch, and placed me down gently, taking a place beside me.

I could feel his fingers making swirling movements in my hair, caressing the slightly knotted strands; plying, coaxing them to yield to his will. My sniffles slowly abated as his massage continued, his hands moved from my hair to my shoulders, his fingertips cupping them and rubbing gently into the musculature of my back.

Pulling my head away from his chest, I met his enraptured gaze that was suffused with an inscrutable, yet absorbing tenor.

Everything at this point slowed down and in that moment, the world turned on its axis, grinding to halt. My stomach held a harbour that could not contain the growing swell of choppy anxiety that was running a crash course of destruction throughout my body. Frozen under the weight of his stare, my lungs were working overtime to keep up with my short, sharp breaths.

A pulsing, rhythmic heat fell between us. My body violently shivered, goosebumps tickling my skin. Incapable of tearing my eyes away from him, I looked on as Edward parted his lips slightly, his tongue dancing across the surface moistening the skin. As it retreated, Edward moved toward me, his eyes locked with mine, a fierce determination residing in the forest green of his iris.

Before I could take my next breath, Edward's lips were on mine; a soft caress of skin on skin. His tender touch, a balm that seared my frayed nerves, planted itself deep within my splintered soul. Ceding to the feel of him, I moved my lips lightly on his, giving and receiving of the emotions swarming between us.

His languorous movements warmed my skin; the silky smooth texture of his lips tasting my own. I closed my eyes, delighting in the nervous thrill that careened through my body. I hadn't known I'd wanted or needed him in this way, but the moment his lips roamed across mine, I felt the fracture that had resided so in my heart for so long, begin to heal.

Edward slowly, hesitantly, pulled away, leaving me wanting, his taste lingering on my skin. Fluttering my eyes to adjust to them being open once more, I took in the sight before me: Edward's heavily hooded eyes, his chest drawing in deep, sonorous breaths, his hands shackled to the couch, white-knuckling it with a ferocious intensity.

My nervous but sated reverie was broken by a rapping sound coming from the somewhere in the hallway? The persistent, musical-sounding beat was progressively getting louder. But I was too frozen - locked in the moment after our kiss to care enough to check it out.

The distracting noise morphed into the pitter-pat of soft footfalls approaching where we sat. The accompanying voice: a recognizable one.

"Bella? Are you home? Where are you? The door was unlocked." Alice's voice called out from just beyond the living room, her body not far behind. "Oh! There you are." Her voice sounded keen and almost accusatory. Her perceptive eyes honed in at the short amount of distance between Edward and myself.

"Alice! What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be back until tomorrow."

"I know. But not long after we talked earlier, I don't know... I just got this strange feeling that something... _life changing_ was about to happen. I convinced Jasper to bring me back right away."

Alice's eyes darted between me and Edward. Her eyebrow raised in question. I knew she was aware that she'd walked in on something. But as for how much she had seen, she wasn't giving anything away.

Edward stood from the couch. He looked over at Alice and nodded in greeting, before looking down at me. His face showed no obvious sign of what he was thinking or feeling. "I'm just going to step outside and leave you ladies to talk." He stepped out of the room, a moment later I heard the front door close quietly behind him.

Alice not so discretely coughed clearing her throat, and in the process gaining my undivided attention.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked, eyebrows raised, her mouth lifting at the corner into a cheeky but knowing grin.

"What? No. Nothing." Alice was one of the most intuitive people I knew. It wouldn't have surprised me if she knew what had happened not two minutes before. But regardless, I was not ready to share it with her. Especially when I had no idea what it was myself.

Alice cocked her head to the side in contemplation, her face a blank slate of emotion for a moment, before a hint of a smile graced her lips. "Okay, Bella. If you say so."

"Yes I do. So, why are you here again?" Looking down at my watch, I noticed most of the day had gone by without my knowing. It was nearing six p.m. giving Alice and Jasper more than enough time to make the drive back. But I was still in the dark about why they came home earlier than planned.

"When you called earlier, everything was fine. But then not long after, I just had this really strong feeling that something was about to happen. And then on the drive home, just this side of Port Angeles, I was hit with the most terribly nauseating feeling I've ever had. I don't know what it was, but I had hot and cold sweats and I swear I could hear voices calling out in pain, Bella. It was awful. But then as we got closer to Forks, I can't explain it. I've never felt so anxious or lost in my entire life. I told Jasper to floor it back here. I knew something wasn't right. I could see it."

"Hang on, what do you mean you could see it?" Her revelation was not what I expected, and it completely blindsided me.

"Bella, this is going to sound odd, but sometimes I see things. Things that haven't happened yet. I don't know why, but it's been happening for as long as I can remember." Alice's tone was severe and sure. If what she was saying hadn't sounded so far-fetched, I would've immediately believed her.

"You're right, that does sound odd. In fact, odd would be putting it lightly. None of this makes sense, Alice. You can't see into the future. No one can," I said, scrunching my eyes in disbelief.

"Look, I know I must sound like a crazy person, but just think about it. With everything happening around you right now, is it really that impossible for someone to have visions?"

I had to admit, she had a point there. I still wasn't convinced, but I'd already heard and witnessed enough bizarre and terrifying things in the past few weeks to make me think anything was possible. "So, what did you see that made you come back early?" I asked, realizing I had little to no option but to believe her.

Alice smiled, pleased that I was giving her the benefit of the doubt. "Well, nothing clearly. Everything kept changing. But it was definitely about you and Edward. Something's going to happen. I'm positive of it.

"I kept getting brief flashes of a key. It was an old key. Like an antique."

A chill that gave me goosebumps raced along my skin; the hairs on my arm stood on end. I slipped my hand down beside me to where the keys were, and picked one up. Unable to enclose it completely within my palm, part of the post and key piece was exposed. I held it in my grasp over my leg, vacillating over whether to show Alice now or wait for another time. However, her eyes caught sight of it before I could decide what to do.

"Like that one. Bella, show me that key!" Alice extended her arm to me, palm upturned, impatiently waiting for me to hand it over to her. Without any other option, I slowly passed it over.

She fingered it lightly, turning it over again and again, perusing the detail and eyeing it as though it were something potentially dangerous. "There's another one, isn't there?"

Instantly stricken with dry mouth and unable to confirm her statement, I nodded, now convinced that Alice's visions were real.

"These numbers, what do they mean?" Alice asked.

"What numbers?" I said, as I reached down beside me once more and picked up the second key, holding it in my open hand for Alice to see.

"There's a nine, and a one and another number right next to it that I can't make out. Then further down there's a small collection of other numbers, maybe a year, I'm not sure." Alice looked questionably at the metal in her hand, as though if she looked at it hard enough the answers to what she sought would magically present themselves.

As I looked over the key in my hand, I noticed the numbers on mine. They weren't easy to find as they were quite small and etched into the post, but I could see two and zero quite close together, which I assumed to be a twenty. Beside that was a six and then a series of numbers quite close together, much like the other key. "Alice, I have a four numbers close together on mine too. Do you think that means something?

"I don't know, Bella. Here pass it over."

I did as she asked, and she gave me the one in her hand. I studied the key, looking for the numbers, but they weren't in the same place as they were on the other key.

"Alice, where are the numbers?"

"Bella, they're right in front of you. Look," she said, pointing to the bulbous head of the key, its fancy detailing curling around the top like a vine. The numbers were small, etched into the ornate metal.

A discordant clang sounded as the key slipped from my tenuous grasp, falling past my leg onto the floor.

"Bella! Careful, honey. We don't know what these keys mean yet, we need to be... Bella, what's wrong?" Alice asked, her panicked voice breaking through the shocking silence.

Overwhelmed by what I had just seen, I sat paralyzed as Alice looked on in concern.

"Bella! Talk to me. What's wrong?" Her panicked voice now more of an hysterical screech.

I tried to make my mouth co-operate, but wasn't able to emit a sound. With the key now in Alice's possession after she had picked it up from the floor, I stared at the offending object confounded as to how those numbers came to be on a key that appeared to be as old as the chest, if not more.

When the intensity of the numbing shock began to lessen, I tried speaking once more. Alice remained seated opposite me eagerly awaiting my response.

The only words I could first manage: "September 13, 1981."

"Bella, what does that mean?" Alice asked, shaking her head in obvious confusion.

"It's my birthday."

Alice clapped a hand over her mouth, her following gasp barely muffled. "Your birthday? But in my vision -" She trailed off, her eyes now vacant showing no sign she'd something of an epiphany moments before. After a few moments of eerie silence she brought both keys level to her eyes, viewing both more speculatively than before. "The numbers on this key," she said pointing to the one that Edward and I found in the piano, "I saw a woman sitting alone at a table. A cake with a lit candle on it in front of her. She was... she was crying, Bella. The woman - she looked so very lonely. But, her hair and dress - it was not current. She looked like someone out of an old movie."

This caught my attention and before I knew I had anything to say, I had already asked her. "An old movie like Casablanca?"

Nodding thoughtfully, Alice responded, "Yeah, I think so. The woman's hair was pinned up and she was wearing a vintage style dress. Why Casablanca specifically?"

"Oh so many reasons, Alice. This whole thing is crazy. Whatever is happening has something to do with that movie, I'm sure of it. The song from the movie, I keep hearing it. In the kitchen when I moved it in, it started playing but no one else heard it. And then earlier today, I came home from from seeing Charlie, and I found Edward playing it on the piano. But Edward doesn't know how to play the piano. Oh, and there was a painting in the attic that we think might be the previous owners. It looked almost exactly like the Casablanca movie poster.

"I just feel like I have all these loose jigsaw pieces but when I try to fit them together, they won't. There has to be an answer for all of this. There just has to be. And if I don't find it soon, I worry I go insane."

"Okay, Bella, just calm down. We'll sort this out. It's what Edward does. And you know if I can help in any way, I will."

"Just you being here is help enough. Thank you, Alice," I replied as I embraced her in a friendly and grateful hug.

**Edward**

Air. I needed air. Desperately.

I stepped out on to the front porch gulping down plumes of fresh air like a fish struggling to breathe out of water.

I kissed her. More than that, I _wanted_ to kiss her. I had needed to do something to show her she was cared for, to show her that everything would be all right. I found myself wanting to protect her beyond the ways that a friend does. I knew I was developing feelings for her, but I had quashed those, knowing that it wasn't professional or in the best interest of the investigation for us to get caught up in something that could potentially serve as a distraction.

As I paced the length of the porch, I couldn't get the feel of her soft wavy hair out of my mind. The way the tendrils wrapped themselves loosely around my fingers, as I weaved them through, removing her stubborn tangles. The perfume of something distinctly flowery permeating the air around us drew me into her.

She'd looked so unsure - timid almost - under the weight of my perusal. I hadn't meant to alarm her; I simply couldn't remove my eyes from her.

When our lips connected, I felt strangely and unexpectedly empty. Not from a lack of feeling though. No, that was pulsing, throbbing, thriving inside my arteries. Blood rushing from heart to my connective tissues and back again, the feeling akin to a stampede of angry elephants charging across my chest.

It was my mind that was empty. No thoughts, no sounds, nothing. Just... peace. The lull allowing me to focus on the woman in front of me, on the way she froze when my lips met hers, only to eventually but hesitantly yield to my movements.

We kissed for what felt like an eon until I pulled back, instantly overwhelmed from the blinding and contradictory emotions coursing throughout my body: guilt that I'd given into temptation and kissed the vulnerable woman that I'd befriended, and anger at the guilt I felt, because _nothing_ in my life had ever felt as right as that kiss.

The unexpected but welcome arrival of Alice had afforded me the much needed opportunity to remove myself from the room. I needed some time to think, to process what had just happened between us.

I wanted Bella. I knew this, but it flew in the face of everything that I considered proper and professional conduct.

Pulling at my hair and torn about what to do, I gazed out at the darkening sky. Overcast graying storm clouds were slowly rolling in, bringing that heavy depressed feeling that often accompanies rainy weather. I was contemplating going back inside to speak to Bella once more before leaving for the night, when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I removed it and looked at the incoming caller on the screen: Emmett.

I hadn't heard from him in the few weeks that I'd now been here; the both of us obviously too caught up in our own business to keep in contact with one another.

"Hey, Emmett. What's up?"

"Edward, my man. How's things in that little podunk town you're stuck in? Bet you're bored as fuck and want out yesterday, right? Am I right? Come on, admit it man."

"Emmett, firstly, Forks is not a podunk town. Yes, it's small. But from what I've seen it's actually quite nice, and so are the people. Second, no I'm not bored. Quite the opposite actually. This case has really turned into something potentially career-altering. But you didn't call to yank my chain about the town or the case, did you? So why did you really call?"

"Well, that's no way to ruin a guy's fun. Geez, Edward. Rosie's all serious and no play lately. And now you're busting my balls, too."

"Quit being so dramatic, Emmett, and get to the point."

"Alright, alright! Don't go getting your panties all up in a twist. I actually called about something I thought you should know about."

"Okay, sure what is it?"

"Well, I stayed back late last night, and just as I was finishing up I saw the janitor, Peter, going into your office. I know, there's nothing odd about that, but it was the way he was acting. He was all sly and I don't know, man, stealthy ninja-like."

"Stealthy ninja-like? Really, Emmett. Do you know what he was doing?"

"Well, not while he was in there, but then he came out and walked back down the hall toward my office, so I made it look as though I was leaving at the same time he was passing me and when he did, there was just something in how he looked at me that freaked me out. It was like like a warning shot or something. Really creepy he was. Anyway, once he was gone I went into your office and found an envelope on your desk addressed to you."

My mind instantly remembered the afternoon only a few weeks ago, when after returning to my office, I had found a lone envelope resting ominously atop a pile of papers, and how with trepidation I had opened it to find a letter addressing the Philadelphia Project. The words contained in the letter hinted at something highly confidential and carried threatening undertones.

"Edward? Dude, you there?" Emmett's voice broke the hypnotic spell my memories had me trapped in.

"Yeah, sorry man. Just remembered something. You were saying?"

"Ah yeah, so I grabbed the letter and went back to my own office." Emmett admitted, his voice now laced with nervousness.

"And?" I asked, my lilting tone hinting to him that I anticipated he did more than simply take it to his office.

"I read it, but before you lose your shit at me for reading your personal stuff, you should know that it's a good thing I did. Because this letter man, it's weird. All full of nonsense; the words just don't fit."

"Okay, Emmett. You've lost me. You'll need to read it out to me." In the background I could hear the sounds of papers being shuffled around, things falling to floor. I remembered Emmett's desk always being cluttered, a mess of work from months ago that had yet to be filed, right through to current jobs he was working on.

I heard Emmett in the background as he sounded a muffled but euphoric 'A-ha!' signaling he had found the letter. "Sorry about that, man. I should've had it with me when I called, but you know what I'm like with paperwork. So, it starts by saying 'Dear Edward' and then he writes this gibberish about rainbows."

"Emmett, can you just read it to me. Paraphrasing it is not going to help me make sense of what he's written." The agitation that had taken root due to Emmett's inability to be straight with me began to gnarl and twist. My lack of patience with him was now running at a fever pitch. "Damn it man, why do you have to be so difficult?"

"Edward, just chill , yeah. I'll read it. It says '_Rainbows of all colors are blinding, but only those who know the secret can read between the lines. The Eldridge was built of metal, but can your mettle withstand the buzz? Harness the energy and charge..._' And that's it. He finishes it without a proper ending. It's like he was interrupted or something."

"Harness the energy and charge. And that's it, there's nothing else? No other words written on the page or the envelope?" The disturbing tone of the letter had me rattled, but no closer to discovering what the hell the Philadelphia Project had to do with my "visits" to the attic.

"That's it, Edward. Hey listen, I can send a copy to you if you want? Do you have a fax number where you are?"

Confirming that I did, I gave him the details he needed before Emmett told me he had dinner plans with Rose and that he needed to get ready. After ending the call, I stood in silence, deep in thought, going over everything I knew of the Project and how the words in the letter related to it, and just what Peter had to gain from sending me these cryptic missives. But my mind kept drifting back to the woman on the other side of the door, wondering if she was okay and if she would want me to continue the work I'd started.

With night now settling over the house, intermittent moonlight fought its way past the storm clouds. Roaring thunder clapped in the distance, fighting for dominance over the persistent hooting of an owl perched in the large tree beside Bella's bedroom window.

I walked over to the front door, still undecided on whether I was staying or going, when the doorknob twisted under my hand. The door creaked open revealing Alice's diminutive figure. She smiled brightly at me, gesturing me inside.

"She's on the couch." Alice said, placing her hand on my arm. "She wants to speak with you.

**Bella**

After discussing the investigation with Alice and giving her a run-down on what we'd uncovered up to then, she thankfully diverted the conversion in another direction, talking about more innocuous subjects like the things she and Jasper had done while in Seattle, and recent movies we'd seen.

Before too long, she announced she had to return home to get dinner on the table. I gave her a hug and thanked her for all her help, telling her if she saw Edward outside to send him in.

She walked herself out, and after a moment I heard footsteps headed in my direction. Edward appeared a moment later, a sheepish look present on his face.

He sat beside me on the couch, a strained silence falling between us. When I couldn't take it any longer I asked, "So, what was that before?"

Edward looked down at his hands, fidgeting with them before taking a deep breath and sitting back up, looking at me.

"I don't - no, no more." A resolute expression in his eyes, he shook his head as though disagreeable with his own thoughts. "Bella, there's something between us. I know it. I can _feel_ it and I believe you can feel it, too." I gulped deeply, taken completely by surprise the level of conviction in his voice.

"That kiss earlier, I'm sorry to have shocked you that way, but I cannot and will not say I'm sorry for it. Please tell me that you aren't sorry for it either."

I thought back to the way his lips felt on mine, and the glowing feeling that ignited within me after I acquiesced to him. Kissing Embry had never felt that way, not even not my wedding day.

"I'm not sorry either, Edward," I replied, my voice unwavering. Knowing what I had to say next, I unconsciously found myself speaking to him at a lower, almost meek, volume. "But I can't right now. I don't think I can be in relationship right now. Part of me wants to... especially with you, but the ink is barely dry on my divorce papers and I just need... time. Can you give me that?"

Edward looked undoubtedly disappointed but nodded, giving me a smile that assured me that things between us would be okay.

Needing to break the awkward air that had veiled the room I told him that I needed to get dinner started. "Would you like to stay?" I asked as I stood from the couch and began walking toward the kitchen.

"Thank you, I would. Can I give you a hand?"

"No, thanks. I'll be fine. Feel free to do read a book or whatever you want. You spend so much time here under other more serious circumstances, you should get some time off to enjoy yourself and relax."

"Well then in that case, I'll be in the library. I saw some books in there I'd love to take a look at," Edward replied as he left the room.

As I moved into the kitchen and began preparing the meal, settling on beef stir-fry. I washed and chopped the vegetables, before moving onto the marinade sauce. When that was complete and the tangy aroma of honey soy filled the kitchen, I got the rump steak out the fridge and began slicing it into thin strips.

Humming to myself, I was lost in the tactile experience of cooking a meal from scratch. It even dawned on me that this would be the first meal I would be cooking for Edward, and despite my earlier misgivings, something about this simple gesture felt right. I knew, however, we still had a long way to go as far as the investigation was concerned, and any feelings I may be developing had to be put on hold.

I also had to come up with a way to tell him about the key. The discovery of the birth date - _my birth date - _seemed eerily significant, and as much as I wanted to shrug it off as a simple coincidence, I couldn't suffuse the nagging feeling that it was a critical part of our investigation.

As I continued to slice the meat, I couldn't help but get lost in the relaxing sensation cooking provided me. I appraised the way the vegetables looked in the bowl, their bright, crisp colors commingling, the sauce with its thick, gelatinous appearance, the handful of sesame seeds I'd added to provide a crunchy texture to contrast the smoothness of the honey.

My mind continued to drift, and I continued to slice through the cold meat when there was a sudden sensation of warmth on my left hand. I looked down at my hands and saw it - a pool of blood, thick and viscous, bathing the chopping block in deepest crimson. I blinked, my brain not quite registering what my eyes were seeing - the knife, still grasped firmly in one hand, now stood upright on one edge, its blade a steel wall separating my hand from my fingers.

I stared at the scene before me. I was stricken, unable to move. I could see and feel the blood as it continued to gurgle out of my hand. Waves of nausea roiled in my stomach and the smell of rusted iron wafted around the room causing my stomach to churn even more. My knees grew weak. My limbs became listless, numb. Before I knew what was happening, I was collapsing, the knife clattering to the floor beside me, spurts of glossy red liquid dripped onto the front of my shirt and down my jeans.

My right hand gripped my left wrist and held it upright as violent tremors wracked my body. Pain surged through my shoulder, my arm, my hand. Finally, my throat found release, and as I looked upon my hand, now bleeding, fingerless, I could do nothing else but scream.

I needed Edward, but couldn't muster the energy to call out to him. I thought I could hear footsteps through the riotous bedlam pouring out of me, but I couldn't be certain.

Tears clouded my vision as the pain now throbbed at uncontrollable levels. I was succumbing to the dark of unconsciousness when I felt two strong hands gripping my shoulders, shaking me out of my reverie.

"Bella," he called out, but I couldn't decipher his other muffled words.

His fingers wiped at my eyes, clearing them of tears. Edward's hands smoothed along the length of my arms as he murmured something that seemed to have an effect, calming me down enough to understand him properly.

"Bella, what's wrong, sweetheart. Talk to me, Bella," he asked urgently.

"M-m-m-ma fingers," I managed to choke out, still sobbing with panic. "So much blood," I cried again.

"What blood, Bella? There's nothing here. You're fine," Edward replied softly. Confusion marred his features. He clearly did not see what I was seeing.

"But, the knife. My fingers. I saw ... on the chopping block…with the meat."

"No, Bella. You didn't cut your fingers," he said, reaching down and taking hold of my hands, raising them to the level of my face. "See? All eight fingers and two opposable thumbs. Everything's intact." His eyes smiled warmly at me, reassuring me once again.

And he was right. There were not cuts, nor any blood. All my fingers were exactly as they were before I began cooking.

"But, I saw it! And the blood….there was so much. I swear, Edward. I'm not lying, I promise." I cried as heaving guttural sobs ripped through me as I gripped onto Edward's shirt.

I could hear Edward's attempts to calm me. His offering of sweet, gentle words was desperate to help, but the image of the crimson stain that blanketed the cutting board burned violent in my mind.

In that moment, I came to one conclusion: the house was driving me insane.

**...**

**I have a poll on my profile, and I'd love if you all took a peek at it and shared with me the option that best fits what you believe is happening. **

**The next update will be over a month away. I'm going on holidays to America and so writing the next chapter, while it remains a priority, will be much slower coming. But I will get it to you as soon as I can. I appreciate your patience in advance. **

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'd love to hear your thoughts. **


	13. Shadow and Light

**Thank you all so much for your patience. This chapter took a great deal longer than I had hoped. The comments I received for the last chapter were all so wonderful and buoyed me a great deal with the difficulties I met in getting this chapter to you. **

**Given the lengthy time between updates here's a little refresher:**

**There was more discovery pertaining to the letters from Elizabeth,**

**Edward kissed Bella, **

**Bella and Alice found numbers on the keys. One of those keys having Bella's birth date on them.**

**There was some mention of something strange happening at Edward's office,**

**And poor Bella believed she chopped her fingers off while preparing dinner.**

_**If you need a more detailed refresher, perhaps a read through of the last scene of the previous chapter would be helpful.**_

**...**

**Shadow and Light**

**Edward  
**

As children we often engage in bedtime rituals with our parents. Some families read books together. Some build forts out of their duvets and bed sheets. Mine was to play shadow puppets with my mom and dad. They would come in after I had brushed my teeth to tuck me into bed, and every night, without fail, I would ask them to make funny shapes with their hands, and then watched with rapt attention as they appeared on the wall, trying to guess what animal each was.

It's these shadows that can transform into anything in the blink of an eye. One moment they're animals of some description, and the next it's a lamp post, or a non-descript face. It's these sudden changes that make them fascinating, but also a trick of the eye. Perception; it's relative to the individual what each person sees. The same can be said for psychic phenomena. Not everyone is susceptible to its influences. And some people are, more so than others. If this house was inhabited by some remaining emotional energy, manifesting itself in a manner yet to be determined, I had to wonder just how much Bella's own emotions and personality was feeding it. And just why she was so susceptible?

I sat vigil in the armchair in the corner of Bella's bedroom watching the blank canvas of the wall transform into a menagerie of elephants, giraffes and birds dancing across the imaginary African savanna. The light made by the half moon uninterrupted by a lack of cloud cover.

Bella's deep rhythmic breathing assured me that she was sleeping restfully, but the painful torment of the early evening was never far from my mind.

**...**

Nightfall cloaked the kitchen as I knelt beside Bella, holding her, comforting her as her tears continued relentlessly into the evening. Every now and then she would attempt to voice something to me, but her body wracked with sobs could not express anything more clearly than a series of disjointed words about padded cells and crazy people.

I could easily surmise, however, that she believed she was going insane.

I pulled her onto my lap, running my hands in a soothing caress down her back, aiding her in slowing her manic exhalations. With my fingers clasping gently at her chin, I brought her face level with mine. The vacant sunken appearance of her eyes, with tear tracks leaving tributaries on her cheeks, was so far from the warmth that glistened from them after our kiss that it left me near tears myself. Her flailing movements had calmed somewhat, and she allowed me to rock her gently, as I reiterated that none of it was real. Despite my pleading assurances that all her fingers were intact, she seemed to believe me even though she continued haranguing herself.

We sat huddled on the floor long into the evening, when after a while her sniffles and whimpers faded; she had exhausted herself and fallen asleep. I vacillated over whether to stay where we were to avoid disturbing her, or to carry her upstairs. However, when Bella nuzzled into me, I knew I had to take her to her bedroom. As much as I was selfishly enjoying holding her in my arms, the calamitous events of the earlier evening called for having her in surroundings that she knew and felt safe in-or as safe as was possible at that point.

With her safely in my arms, I carried her up upstairs to her room, scaling her stairs as carefully as I could to avoid jostling and waking her. When I entered her room and carried her toward her bed, a wave of possessiveness swarmed over me; I didn't want to let her go, I didn't want to leave the room. Standing there, I warred with myself over what to do. I did the only thing I could do - the only thing that was right - I lay her down, delicately lowering her head onto her pillow, but as I maneuvered her body into a comfortable position, her eyes opened.

"Edward, what's going on?"

"Shhh, Bella. You fell asleep and I've brought you up to bed. Get some rest now. I'll be right here if you need me."

A distorted grimace belied her obvious exhaustion, and she muttered something about needing to change out of her clothes. I helped her sit up and she moved off the bed toward her chest of drawers. After removing what she needed, she turned her head to look at me, a quirked eyebrow my cue to leave. I stepped from the room, and began pacing the hallway, wringing my hands in frustration.

After what must have been at least ten minutes, I approached her bedroom and listened for any noise that would confirm she was still awake. When I heard none, I peeked carefully through the ajar door finding her in her bed, once again asleep.

I entered her room and approached her bed. Bella was lying on her side, facing the window, her hair billowed out over the large white pillow. The light on the adjacent bedside table was on; a muted glow shining throughout the room.

I stood there looking over her for longer than I intended, but I couldn't seem to tear myself away from her side. Before I knew consciously what I was doing, I found myself brushing my hand along her cheek, pushing back errant hairs from covering her eyes, feeling her soft skin now free from the angry blotches of redness caused by her breakdown.

A roaring clap of thunder nearby snapped me out of my absorbed state, and I stumbled backwards to the armchair in the corner. I wasn't certain if Bella would mind my staying here until I knew she would sleep through the night, but I just couldn't leave her alone.

A blanket draped over the back of the chair was more than enough to keep me warm for the night. With it lying over my knees, I tucked it down beside me getting as comfortable as possible. A cushion provided a suitable pillow, and I settled in for the night. My heavy eyes closing shut quickly from fatigue.

**...**

A guttural scream shattered the pristine silence of my sleep. I sat bolt upright from my slouched state, wiping my eyes of the remnants of my rest. When I adjusted to the dark room before me, I saw Bella's body violently thrashing about in her bed. The sheets a white tangled mess, bunched up around her legs, the pillows strewn haphazardly on the floor.

Then with no warning at all, she sat up, a terrified scream pitching from within her. Her eyes searched the room frantically. Clutching desperately at the blanket, she pulled at it, tightly holding it up to her neck.

I sat frozen for a split second, before I came to my senses and threw my blanket off me, jumping from the chair and racing across the room. When I got to her, I hurriedly climbed onto the bed, careful to not hurt her as I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight.

"Bella. What happened?" Anxiety flooded through me as her balled up hands grabbed at the sheets and then her hair. "Shhh, honey. It's alright. Everything's okay. I'm here." I feebly said, in a steady but deliberate tone.

I felt entirely helpless, but continued to speak words of solace to her, trying desperately to calm her down so she could talk to me. I remained wary that with her already brittle psyche, she was teetering on the edge of a cliff and it wouldn't take much - if anything else - to send her over.

Bella struggled in my arms, wrestling to free herself while strangled, tormented sounds and nonsensical words continued to escape her. I grabbed her around her shoulders and shook her as gently, but forcefully, as I could.

"Bella. Come on, sweetheart, talk to me." I was raising my voice, stressed that I couldn't get a response out of her. "I need to know what happened. I'm here to help." I continued rocking her, holding her as her struggling eventually began to lessen.

Warring with a unbridled torrent of hiccoughs, Bella futilely attempted to voice what had woken her so abruptly, but the timidness of her voice and the aftershocks barreling through her harrowed body, prevented anything from coming out clearly. All I heard were mumbles and sniffles, the occasional "stop" or "don't leave me" cutting through.

I continued to hold her, running my arms gently along her back in a soothing motion. Bella's body was relentlessly wracked with shivers that seemed never to end. Beads of sweat hung limply on her forehead. I cupped her face, smoothing my fingers across her cheeks. The fertile brown of her soulful eyes that I had become so accustomed to in recent weeks had transformed into a hollow space, void of all emotion.

As shivers continued to swim across her skin, I adjusted the blanket, moving it slightly so that I could move in closer to Bella. I lay back on the bed and pulled her gently toward me. She lay beside me on her back, and I draped my arm across her stomach, keeping it there in an effort to bring her a sense of security and protection; something she would always be when I was around.

Finally her jagged breaths petered out and slowed to a constant steady pace. As we lay side by side, I felt frozen and apprehensive. The concern I felt at moving and subsequently jostling her now that she'd calmed, kept me lying still, wary of sudden movements.

We lay that way for some time, until her soft voice spoke my name.

"Edward?"

"Yes?"

"Hold me."

"I am holding you, Bella."

"I know. But can you hold me... closer?"

I loosened my hold and she rolled toward me onto her side so that she faced me. I wrapped my arm over her side feeling a surge of warmth flood me from the close position we were in. I was wary of brushing against her in a way that she might have misconstrued, but at the same time, my need to comfort her in whatever way she needed heightened my awareness of just how much I was attracted to her.

"Thank you. For everything." Her voice was so small, it broke my heart to hear her so despondent.

There was nothing I could say in return that didn't sound like I was doing her a favor. It was so much more than that. It was everything. What I felt for her burned through me like a wildfire, savagely destroying everything in its path. Only it wasn't a destructive feeling. It was all-consuming, and it was right.

She curled into me further, grabbing at my t-shirt in a tight clutch. Her free hand moving up into my hair, softly massaging my scalp. When she lifted her eyes to mine, the only thing that I could see was a yearning so strong, so needful that it vibrated through me, sending an electrified shiver down the length of my body.

Before I had a chance to evaluate my next move, her lips were on mine, slow at first and then fevered and hungry. Shock pummeled through me at her insistent kisses. I had wanted this so much. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about our last kiss and the way her lips felt on mine. I wanted a repeat of that more than anything, but what Bella had been through, particularly in the past few hours, had me reining my need in. _This wasn't right, it couldn't happen like this! We needed to stop._ I pulled my lips away from hers, but her hand slid around the back of neck, halting me from pulling farther away.

I wanted nothing more than to be with her, but she was balancing on a tightrope so fine, that I couldn't allow my own wants to overtake that of Bella's emotional well-being. Not like this, not now. "Bella, sweetheart, we don't need to do this. Not now. Just let me take care of you. Please."

She placed the tips of her fingers over my mouth, silencing me. "Edward, stop. I need this. I want it."

Before I had the chance to move away, I felt her fingers move down over my torso, tempting and arousing me in ways that made it hard to fight the need to deny her.

With a determined insistence gleaming in her eye, her hands found the zipper on my pants and began removing them, but I grabbed her hands stopping her from going any further. "Bella, stop. You don't know what you're doing."

With an exasperated and almost angry sigh, through gritted teeth she replied, "I know _exactly _what I'm doing. So shut up and let me do it." Her hands then resumed pushing my pants down my legs before trailing them back up and wrapping one around my my disobedient yet fast hardening erection.

I clenched my teeth, sucking in a stunned breath. "Bella," I managed to utter, "please, you don't need to do this."

"Edward," she reinforced in a warning tone as she peppered kisses along my neck and down my jaw.

I knew at that moment, I couldn't stop. My body craved hers, desired it in ways that I couldn't continue to fight. As much as I had wanted to hold back, to wait until we were both in the right place, I could wait no longer.

I lowered my chin, pressing my lips on hers insistently. Her answering moan: a guttural sound that created a nervous buzz inside me. Her warm tongue met mine as we explored each others bodies in haste.

We made quick work of the remainder of our clothes, with no drawn-out sighs or other forms of declaration. This was just sex; a desperate need connect with each other. To just feel.

A wanton moan of encouragement drowned out the remaining but rapidly vanishing warnings that were heeding me to slow down. Ignoring them, I ran my arms along her body, feverishly feeling her dewy skin, as she arched into my touch.

Our hands continued their exploration of each others bodies; small whimpers of pleasure surrounding me as my hands skimmed over Bella's breasts, molding them in my palms.

Bella's, too, mapped out a path along the planes of my chest, as she rolled herself onto her back, inviting me inside her.

She kissed me again, stunting the hesitant thoughts that I could not shake. _Is this right? How is this going to affect us?_ When she pulled away, Bella shook her head imploring me with a sincere expression to listen to her. "Edward, I want this. I want you."

She wrapped her legs around my hips, urging me forward to the place I wanted to be. And I knew that as much as I wanted this, wanted her, in that moment, I couldn't push back the dominating thought that we were crossing some invisible threshold, that once breached, would irrevocably change things forever.

The sensation of having her beneath me was unlike anything else. Desire engulfed me like waves smashing into a jagged cliff face. No other woman I had been with had the same effect on me, and I just hoped we came out of this unscathed.

Bella sought my lips out once more, her tongue brushing softly against my own, as she slid her sex over my erection. Tightening her legs around my hips, I looked into her beseeching eyes searching for some sign that this was too much, too soon, but finding none. Bella wanted this. I wanted this.

With a final move, I pushed myself inside her, groans of eager pleasure emanating from the both of us. All doubt that this was wrong evaporating as I found myself taking of everything she so willingly offered.

Finally joined with her, an overwhelming and almost incapacitating feeling of rightness came over me, briefly seizing me in shock. Nothing before now had ever felt so sure, so true.

I allowed my body to let go and speak for me, hoping that when tomorrow came it would be enough.

**...**

Before I had even awoken, my body was seeking out the woman beside me, but when I rolled toward her, all I found was vacant space. Cold. She hadn't been there for some time.

Panicked, I got out of bed, stumbling over my feet in my desperation to find her. I was instantly positive that her absence meant that she was regretting the events of last night; the ardent emotions that swarmed over us, incapacitating us in frenzied throes of unyielding longing.

Hastily I threw on the t-shirt and pants that I worn last night and descended the stairs.

"Bella," I called out. My voice carrying across the lower level of the house.

With no response, I ran through the living area into the kitchen, but she was not there either.

"Bella, if you're here, can you please say something?"

With my anguish growing, and having checked the other rooms downstairs, I was now certain that she was not in the house. Then I remembered I should check for her car. I ran back to the front door and flung it open, not caring that it opened too fast and slammed into the sideboard table, shaking the tchotchkes that rested on top.

The reverberating sound of my heavy steps on the patio rang dull in my ears as I raced around the side of the house where Bella had been parking her car. It was there. Parked in its usual spot.

I fisted my hair in fear that she taken off somewhere, likely distressed and scared. "Shit! Damn it, Bella, where are you?" I yelled.

Not knowing what else to do, or who to ask for help, I turned back for the house prepared to call the police and report her missing.

"Edward, I'm right here." And there she was. Knelt at the flowerbeds at the front of the house. Dressed in striped pajamas and a dressing gown, she was tending to the flowers.

"God, Bella. You frightened me. I thought you'd left." The relief I felt at seeing her swamped me, hitting me with the force of Mack truck.

I ran over to her and pulled her into my arms, holding onto her as if she was being dragged away from me down river rapids.

"Um, Edward, you're holding onto me too tight. It hurts."

"Oh. Sorry. I... just... God, you had me panicked."

Resignedly, I let her go and looked at the ground, feeling embarrassed at the ferocity of my reaction. Bella crouched down and I saw her bring a familiar flower to her nose, inhaling its perfume.

"Forget-me-nots. You like them?" I asked.

Nodding, she said, "I'm impressed, Edward, I wouldn't have expected you to know their name." She went about removing some weed offshoots that were growing nearby, and tending to the other plants in the flowerbed.

"They're one of my mother's favorites. I can't say I know many others though." Kneeling on the ground beside her, I pulled a stem of the flower toward me and fingered the delicate cornflower blue petals. "You know, I've always found the meaning behind their name quite powerful. Legend has it that the wearer of the flower would place a wreath of it around their neck so they would not be forgotten by their lover."

With the mention of the word "lover," Bella gasped and looked away. A blush so red painting her cheeks the color rivaled the ripeness of any fresh tomato.

Abruptly she stood and muttered, "I need to get inside."

I got up and went after her, following her onto the porch. I grabbed her arm as she went to open the door. "Bella, wait! Last night-"

Bella yanked her hand away and held it in the air halting my next words, "Edward, not now. We'll talk, I promise. But just... later."

I didn't want to pressure her, but I needed some reassurance that she wasn't delaying the inevitable with fruitless excuses.

"Okay, but we can't let last night go without talking about it." I implored.

"I know," she said, her voice quiet, almost contemplative.

And with that she turned for the door and went inside. I stood unmoving, wanting to follow but simultaneously not wanting to crowd her. I could only hope that when she was ready to talk she wouldn't shut me out.

**...**

Breakfast was a silent affair with both of us casting weighted glances at each other. After I finished my bowl of cereal, I got up to leave the table, wanting to give Bella some space but as I made it to the door, she broke the silence that hung heavily in the room.

"Edward, wait."

I looked back at her, hopeful but uncertain of what she wanted.

"You're right. We do need to talk. Can you..." she motioned to the chair I just vacated and I moved back to it, taking my seat.

When I looked across the table at Bella she was tightly clasping her mug of tea, looking down at it as though it would magically provide the answers to all of her problems. I didn't want to rush her so I sat and waited for her to find the words she needed. There were a few moments of silence before I heard her inhale and exhale deeply before finally speaking.

"What happened last night... it was...," with an agitated sigh she huffed and then quickly said, "I don't regret it. I didn't mean for it to happen, but you were there, and I just...needed to feel...I don't know. It all just happened so fast." She left her words hanging there, rubbing her brow as though she was trying to find the right words.

A conversation about our current circumstances would be difficult at any time, let alone with the situation as it were. I sat forward in my chair, leaning my elbow on the table top. "Bella, I don't know what happened last night either, but I don't regret it. I just don't know what it means now. I know where you stand and the last thing I want to do is make you think I'm pressuring you for more in the midst of everything else."

I sat back in my chair and gave Bella time to collect her thoughts.

"I know you're not meaning to pressure me, and I don't feel pressured. I was the one who initiated everything last night. And I can't blame you for being confused about where we stand.

"I don't want you to think that I'm leading you on, but I still mean what I said yesterday; I need time."

Even though on some level I had expected Bella to say that (I even knew it was what was best for her), I couldn't help but feel deflated. A part of me had hoped that perhaps she had originally decided wrong and that was open to something more serious. I tried not to let it show that I was disappointed, but I'm not sure I succeeded.

I looked away from her, not wanting to show how disheartened I felt. It wasn't fair of me to feel that way. But after last night and the feelings she evoked in me, I simply couldn't help it. Something had changed. I felt it. I just didn't know if Bella had as well.

"But," her shy voice spoke, now sounding cautious and nervous compared to a few moments before, "There's something between us, and I think I'd regret it if I didn't give this - whatever this may be - a chance."

I'm sure if I had the opportunity to look at myself from a fly-on-the-wall perspective I would have appeared to look like a ridiculous caricature of myself: my head flinging around back to face Bella, a sheepish but exhilarated grin on my face. My heart was erratic, thrumming as though I just completed a marathon, the veins in my neck pulsing with excitement at her words. When I realized how pathetic my teenage boy reaction was, I quickly tamped it down and waited for her to continue with a nervous but anticipatory smile.

"As I'm sure you can understand, I'm hesitant about being in another relationship. It's not that I don't trust you, I do, but I still don't know you all that well, and I can't afford to put myself in a position of vulnerability again, especially with everything that's going on."

I didn't want to interrupt her, and I was sure she had more to say, so I nodded my agreement and allowed her to continue.

"That being said, I feel drawn to you, and I want to get to know you better. But we need to take it slow. Let's just get to know each other and take it from there because when all this is over, you'll have to return to San Antonio and that's such a long way from here. And I'm not sure what sort of impact that will have on things."

I couldn't have agreed more. I didn't want to rush into anything with Bella. I hadn't felt anything like what I was feeling for her with any other woman. So long as she was willing to give this a chance I was more than happy to take this at whatever pace she wanted.

"Bella, you are fast becoming very important to me. I'm not going to do anything to risk hurting or upsetting you. We'll take this - whatever it is - as fast or slow as you want. I'm putting you in control here. You just tell me what you want and I'll do my best to give it to you."

A soft smile graced the face of the woman in front of me. To say I was content that I was the one that put it there was an understatement. I silently vowed in that moment to do whatever it took to keep that smile on her beautiful face.

"Your patience means a great deal. Thank you Edward." Bella picked up her mug and took a sip of tea. With squinted eyes and a terse grimace, she complained that her tea had gone cold and tasted like dirty bathwater. I couldn't help but laugh, to which Bella shot me a glare that I knew was meant to be a 'how dare you laugh at me' look, but it wasn't long before she was in peals of laughter with me. Laughing felt good. It was something neither of us had the opportunity to do in so long and we both rejoiced in it, allowing our lungs to fill with air and enjoy a moment of silliness.

Amidst our dying amusement, Bella got up to reheat the water in the kettle and pour herself a new cup. With her back to me she said, "Edward, there's something else we need to talk about. But perhaps we should move into the living room."

Despite our conversation only moments ago I couldn't prevent the feeling of nervous energy that sat deep in my stomach. With my heart in my throat I asked, "Okay. Is there something wrong?"

"Well I'm not sure. I was hoping you could help me answer that."

Wordlessly I moved into the living room and took a seat on the couch while I waited for Bella to follow with her beverage. She entered the room a moment later and took a seat in the chair beside me.

She blew lightly across the top of her mug, steam wafting away from it as she took a small sip. "It's about the keys. I found something on them yesterday."

I sat back into the couch feeling the fretful stranglehold on my abdomen lessen.

"Well actually Alice found it. I had no idea it was even there until she asked me what it was."

I hadn't looked at the key in great detail beyond using it to unlock the chest, and so I had no idea what Bella was referring to. I waited for her to continue while she pivoted in her chair and opened a small drawer on a table next to her. When she turned back to face me she was holding both keys attached to a white ribbon.

Bella untied the keys and placed one in her lap. "Take a close look at this one," she said as she passed it over to me.

I took it from her and turned it over in my hands, looking for anything out of place. As my eyes traveled the length of the post I didn't see anything strange, but when I got to the intricate detailing around the head of the key I found a series of numbers faintly marked into the metal.

"These numbers, is that what you're referring to?"

"Tell me exactly what you see there, Edward?"

"Well they're not easy to see," I said as I rubbed my finger across the surface. "There's a nine and a... is that a thirteen? They're too small, Bella. Do you know what they mean?"

When I didn't get an answer I looked up from the key. Bella was staring straight at me; her knowing eyes holding a secret truth. "It's my birthday," was all she said. Her voice detached and monotone.

"What... you mean these numbers are your birth date?"

"September 13," she said with a small nod. "And if you look very closely you can just make out the year: 1981."

Her birthday. What was Bella's birth date doing on a key that she'd never seen before? One that hadn't even been in her house! None of this made any sense. I had no idea how Bella's birth date was related to any of this. But before I could contemplate it any further a sudden thought occurred to me.

"Bella. The other key, can I see it?" As I allowed the thought to percolate, I could feel the blood rushing to my head; a mild thump beginning to pound in my ears. Numbers and images were fleeting, and time felt as though it stood still while Bella handed me the second key.

My nerves recognized the cool feeling of the metal as I clasped it in my hands. Shaking my head to clear it of the images flitting through my mind, I turned the key over searching for the numbers in the same place as on the other key. When I couldn't find them, I flipped it over and around once more.

"They're not in the same place on that key," Bella explained. "You'll find them on the blade."

"Thanks," I muttered, as my thumb trailed down the length, stopping when it found the grooves I was searching for.

When I lifted my finger away from the key, my stomach rolled as though I'd driven down a hilly road too fast. Shock and alarm coursing through my body.

In that instant the world as I knew it stopped. Everything I had spent years diligently educating myself on flew out the window in matter of seconds. Nothing meant anything anymore. All the research and years I studied were moot. _What did it all mean? And why me?_

I sat rigid, not breathing, afraid that if I did everything before me would shatter and I'd wake up in a strange room where people would then tell me I was a guinea pig for their various cruel and unusual experiments.

The jarring awe of what I'd seen penetrated so deeply that it took Bella insistently pleading my name to get my attention.

"Edward! The numbers on that key are your birthday, aren't they?"

When I found the ability to speak, I said, "Yes, well sort of. I was born on June 20, which is the date etched on here. But the year isn't right. I was born in 1980, but this says 1940-something. But I can't read the year properly."

"Edward, this is too much," Bella screeched. "My birthday and a partial match for yours on these two keys. What are we supposed to do with this?" I could see Bella was becoming increasingly flabbergasted by the revelation, but I had no idea what to do with the new knowledge.

In an attempt to bring levity to the situation, I spoke as calmly as I could. "I think we need to go back to the letters and and re-read them. Perhaps even go through the chest once more. There's got to be something pivotal that we're missing. Some clue that will point me in the right direction."

Bella moved over to the couch and sat beside me, taking the key with her birth date on it in her hands. She lay it in her palm, looking intently at it, sucking her lip violently into her mouth; her nostrils flaring slightly, then she closed her hand in a fist and threw the key to the floor, screaming in frustration.

My hands immediately reached for her, pulling her in close to me. "Shh, Bella. It's all right. I've told you from the start I'm going to find out what's going on, and I mean that more than ever. I promise you."

I lessened my hold on her and she pulled back. The feeling of hopelessness that I knew she felt was written all over her face; her expression dour. I knew she trusted me and believed that I would do all I could and more to help her, but I wanted her to feel just how much I meant that. I cupped her face and repeated my oath to her. She nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. I leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, but as I pulled away, Bella grabbed my shirt and pulled me back to her returning my kiss. Our lips met; soft yet paradoxically firm; desirous but chaste.

We lost ourselves in each other, our breaths melding, enjoying the decision we made to take things slow, but to enjoy our friendship as it grew.

Just as I moved in to bring Bella closer to me, she stopped and pulled back. "Did you hear that?"

Scrunching my eyebrows in confusion, I asked, "Did I hear what?"

A few seconds passed and then I heard a faint rasp-like sound.

There," Bella indignantly exclaimed. "That sound."

I got up from the couch, with Bella following. I motioned for her to stay behind me as I walked out toward the hallway where I thought I heard the sound coming from.

Bella grabbed my hand and then loudly whispered in my ear, "That's the sort of sound I described to you before you got here. At first I thought it might have been rats, but this is the first time I've heard it since you got here, so it can't be. And besides that, the sound just sends a chill down my spine. There's more to it. I'm sure of it."

I wasn't inclined to take someone's word on something generally, at least not without conducting my own empirical studies first. But in this case, the peculiar sound combined with the other evidence fast stacking up, it seemed that there was potentially something sinister going on. Standing up from the couch, I determined that the source of the noise had to determined promptly.

We moved into the entryway and stood at the bottom of the stairs, the scratching sound continued to grow louder. Bella once described the sound to me as being similar to fingernails on a chalkboard, and while it was similar, to me it sounded more like coarse sandpaper being repeatedly and vigorously rubbed in the same spot over and over again.

I slowly ascended the stairs, taking careful note of the noise. As I got closer to the top, I began to hear another noise; a shallow hissing-like sound underneath the scratching. Stepping off the stairs, the sound then abruptly stopped. I could hear Bella coming up behind me and I placed my hand out to get her to stop. I needed to make sure there were no other potential interfering sounds.

And then just as quickly as it stopped, the sound began again in haste. Louder and more virulent than before and coming from the room in front of me.

The spare room.

**...**

**I'm extremely nervous to discover how this chapter has been received. A review would be most appreciated. **

**Thank you all so much for reading. **


	14. Ignis Fatuus

**Welcome new readers. It's lovely to have you along for the madness. This chapter was incredibly hard to write... until it wasn't. So thank you for your patience and reviews. It really is wonderful to read your theories. Some are close... some not so much. A little recap of the end of the last chapter...**

We moved into the entryway and stood at the bottom of the stairs, the scratching sound continued to grow louder. Bella once described the sound to me as being similar to fingernails on a chalkboard, and while it was similar, to me it sounded more like coarse sandpaper being repeatedly and vigorously rubbed in the same spot over and over again.

I slowly ascended the stairs, taking careful note of the noise. As I got closer to the top, I began to hear another noise; a shallow hissing-like sound underneath the scratching. Stepping off the stairs, the sound then abruptly stopped. I could hear Bella coming up behind me and I placed my hand out to get her to stop. I needed to make sure there were no other potential interfering sounds.

And then just as quickly as it stopped, the sound began again in haste. Louder and more virulent than before and coming from the room in front of me.

The spare room.

**...**

**Ignis Fatuus**

**Bella**

"Edward, what's that sound?" I asked, my voice quivering as we stood in front of the spare room.

"I don't know, Bella. Have you ever heard it before?"

"No, never. Only the scratching."

Nodding, he told me that he shouldn't go any further without his voice recorder, saying he hoped to capture something called an EVP, or as he explained, Electronic Voice Phenomena, and asked me if I would mind going back downstairs to retrieve it from his bag.

Flashing images of the angry black vortex resurfaced in my mind; capturing Edward in its grasp, swallowing him, taking him away from me. Buckling under the gravity of the memory, I reflexively clutched Edward's hand, yanking him toward me, fearful that if I left him, even for a moment, he wouldn't be there when I returned.

"Hey," Edward said, with a soft expression on his face, his voice calm and reassuring. "I'm not going anywhere until you get back, but I can't do anything until I get the recorder. Would you rather I get it?" he asked, as he ran his fingers across my knuckles, the soothing gesture calming the fitful pitching of my stomach.

"No, it's okay, I'll get it," I said, steeling myself. "Just promise me you won't go in there until I get back."

"I promise. I'll be right here. The bag is by one of the couches. You should find the recorder in the back compartment."

I slipped my hand from his and turned to head back down the stairs. The hissing sound began to peter out; the scratching continuing its indiscriminate staccato tattoo.

I entered the living room, and swiftly located Edward's bag where he said it would be. I brought it over to the table and opened it, searching through the different partitions looking for the recorder. I found it at the bottom of the back compartment as Edward had described. It became obvious to me as I was removing it, that it was snagged on something. I dug around to remove whatever was holding it captive and eventually loosened a small pouch from the recorder.

I placed the recorder on the table, and went to put the pouch back in the bag, when my curiosity over what was contained inside the inoffensive article won out, screaming at me to open it. I loosened the knot of the drawstring and pulled it open.

Unable to see anything, I switched on an overhead lamp and shone the light directly into the bag; the stark fluorescence immediately finding something inside. Wary I was taking too long to return to Edward, I quickly removed the offending object, but was immediately confused over what I held in my hands: wallpaper. An old, but well preserved piece of wallpaper.

"Bella, you all right? Did you find it?" Edward's voice hollered from upstairs.

I quickly shoved the pouch back into the bag, keeping the wallpaper in my hand. I grabbed the recorder and turned for the stairs. "Yeah, I found it," I said as I began taking the steps.

I wasn't entirely sure why I felt the need to confront Edward over my discovery. The wallpaper was certainly something odd to be carrying around in a pouch. Benign though it was, I felt the need to confront Edward and question him about it.

When I returned upstairs, Edward was by the door where I left him. I walked toward him, but then stopped a few steps away. My anxious demeanor was overtaken by a foreboding weight resting across my shoulders, a blitzkrieg of fury attacking my senses; an unmitigated, consuming rage. I stormed across the landing to Edward, "Where did this come from?" I snarled, the cadence of my voice stunning me. "Tell me!"

I knew my anger was misguided and unjustified; an enigma of emotion goaded by an enemy I could neither see nor hear.

"Bella, I don't know," Edward replied, his palms raised in a sign of acquiescence, staggered by my inflammatory accusations. "I found it by my bedside before I even came here."

"Liar!" I spat. "Stop lying to me."

"I promise you, I am not lying," he said as he tentatively reached for my arms. I batted him away, but my mind wanted him to grab me and pull me into him; to somehow stop whatever was happening to me.

"Get away from me. Don't touch me."

The ground came fast, my tremulous muscles unable to bear my own weight. Black blurred at the frayed edges of my consciousness; air trapped in my lungs, burning the cavity of my eviscerated chest.

Hands wrapped around my body, gingerly enveloping me in their warmth, lifting me up into a sanctuary of calm. Repeated tender whispers of "everything's okay, I've got you," were a panacea to the insidious rage that had imprisoned my body.

"Deep breaths, Bella," Edward said, his hands smoothing out the receding tension in my back. When I got control of my breath, Edward asked, "What happened just now? What was that, Bella?"

I sobbed as I sought to make sense of the everything. Clinging to Edward, I eventually found my voice, "I-I was fine, but then when I saw you. I don't know, something inside me just... snapped."

A crisp memory of the piece of wallpaper reminded me to show it to Edward, but when I let go of him and opened my palm, it was empty.

"Edward, I had a piece of wallpaper," I began, my brow furrowing in confusion. Had I imagined it?

"I've got it," he replied as he unveiled his palm revealing it to me. "I took it from you when I picked you up." Edward looked at it, a look of contemplation ghosting across his face. "Do you remember what you said to me?"

"Not exactly, but I was confused. I remember a part of me being so angry I felt like I wanted to hit you, and the other part was so scared, I just wanted you to hold me. I'm so sorry, Edward. I don't know what's happening."

He hushed me as he continued to hold me. His fingers immersing themselves in my hair, massaging my scalp. We stood there for an age, Edward never letting me go, but rocking us softly back and forth.

"Sweetheart, I know now is not ideal but I really do need to look into what was causing the sounds. Would you like me to take you downstairs and you can relax while I do that?"

"No!" I erupted, "don't leave me alone. Please. I'm okay, I'll come in with you. Just please don't leave me."

Edward cast me a questioning look, holding my hands in front of me and asked, "are you sure? I don't know about this Bella. I think you-"

"Please," I cut him off, pleading. "You can't go in there alone."

Edward knelt down, picking up the recorder than I must have dropped at some point. "Okay, you can come with me. But you are not to let go of my hand," he implored.

I nodded, more than satisfied with this. I had no intentions of being separated from him.

As Edward turned around and grasped the doorknob, a screeching catlike hiss fractured the heavy quiet around us.

My chest constricted and the hairs on my arms stood on end. Edward looked back at me, and squeezing my hand even tighter, mouthed once more, "do not let go." I heard the click of the record button being pressed, and then the door opened.

**...**

A sliver of light peeked through a gap in the heavy drapes that hung from ceiling to floor in the otherwise dim room. The only sound was the creaking made by the unforgiving hardwood floor.

I flipped on the light switch, instantly bathing the room in warmth, and with my hand firmly encapsulated in Edward's, we moved about the room.

A large antique armoire stood proudly along one wall. As we passed it, I danced the tips of my fingers across its surface noticing how the aged patina was rough in some places. We continued walking the perimeter of the room, and I ran my fingers across the wall. The yellow of the walls a stark cry from the neutral tones throughout the remainder of the house.

I tugged gently on Edward's hand and he looked back at me, eyebrows raised in question. I silently asked him if he'd heard anything and he shook his head. The room was now conspicuously void of the iniquitous symphony that held our attention not long ago.

As we moved along the last wall of the room, I noticed an abrupt change in texture under my fingers. Instead of the fine gossamer texture of the other three walls, what I now encountered was coarse and grating, like the harshest of hessian.

"Edward," I waited until I had his attention and then said, "the wall, it feels different here than everywhere else."

Edward traced his hand along the wall, surveying it for himself. He then moved us both over to the corner where he placed one hand on a smooth wall, then dropping our joined hands, put the other on the embossed surface.

As his hand slipped from mine, a biting cold ripped through me, its intensity petrifying me where I stood. A mass of goosebumps flared, causing a painful sensation as though needles were piercing my skin. But as quickly as it overcame me, it just as quickly disappeared. My tense muscles uncoiled and my lungs breathed deep.

Edward still had his hands on the wall in front of him, completely oblivious to me and the glacial freeze driving through my body.

"Edward," I mumbled, "something's here."

"What, where?" He reacted immediately, turning to face me, looking about the room for anything that was out of place, for any sign that I was right.

"Here. It was so cold here just a moment ago. Like I'd walked into a freezer, but even worse. And then it just stopped."

Edward moved me aside and stood where I had. "I can't feel anything. Whatever it was has gone," he said, clearly crestfallen.

I was not surprised. Whatever was happening, it didn't seem to affect Edward. It wanted me. But why? I was beginning to accept that I was susceptible to whatever held some kind of hold on me, but neither of us were any closer to discovering why or how.

**...**

Late morning sun poured through the windows, illuminating the living room in a warm golden hue that was diametrically opposed to the somberness of our moods.

I sat beside Edward on the couch, the both of us quiet, still absorbing what we had experienced. The possibility that I was the conduit for the mystical phenomena in my house was too much for me to wrap my head around, but it could no longer be denied.

"Edward, it wants me, doesn't it?"

Edward looked up from his hands, where he had been turning the recorder over and over again. "It does seem like something is channeling you specifically," he noted stoically. "But what you need to remember Bella," he continued, his face softening, and eyes confident, "it can't hurt you. It's emotional energy. It's invisible, like electricity. You just enable it to communicate. For whatever reason, you are receptive to it and it feeds off of that."

I swallowed deeply trying to dislodge a block that had formed in my throat. "But if it can't hurt me, then why is it progressively getting more malicious? When it first started, I was hearing songs and smelling apple pie," I answered with hurried disdain. "Now I'm having horrifying nightmares and being trapped in cold spots. I don't want to be a go-between for here and Hell, or wherever this energy is from."

"I know, baby," he sighed.

"What did you just say?" I asked disbelievingly, my eyes as large as saucers.

Flummoxed, Edward bumbled over his words, unable to come up with an answer.

"You called me 'baby'," I supplied.

Edward's brow creased, forming a knot between his eyes. Visibly nervous, words began spewing from his mouth, "I'm sorry... that was inappropriate... it won't happen again... I'm so sorry."

"Edward, stop," I said, covering his hands with mine. "It's okay, I... I liked it."

He ducked his head slightly as if you question "you do?"

With a shy smile, I nodded. "You call me sweetheart already, which I like. And you can keep calling me baby... if you want?"

"I would like that."

We were taking tentative, delicate steps towards a relationship. The feelings I had for Edward continued to blossom inside me; I trusted him, both professionally and personally, and that scared me. It felt too soon to bestow upon him the level of trust I felt. I'd known Embry for years but had never _really _known him. I didn't know how, but I knew that Edward would never hurt me.

I was reluctant to end our morning, albeit on a happy note, but I had to make an appearance at work in some capacity. Jasper had arranged a substitute to take my classes until I was able to return to work, but the teacher in me was missing seeing my students and colleagues. As much as I enjoyed Edward's company, I need a change of scenery - a break from the house.

**...**

**Edward**

Shortly after Bella left, I set out to discover what had hopefully been captured on the recording. I'd previously had success in determining a haunting status with this method, knowing that certain phenomena can only be picked up and translated on a magnetic audio tape at a higher frequency than our human ears can hear.

I connected the cassette player and a microphone to my laptop, and saved the file as an mp3. The program I used allowed me to alter the pitch of the recording, enhancing it so that any underlying communication was revealed.

The door creaking open was the first thing I heard. I kept on alert for anything that stood out.

The recording continued to play with only the odd noisy floorboard generating any noise. Then I heard Bella's voice whispering to me about the wall. I sat forward, an anticipatory shiver of excitement running through me as we neared the place I hoped would glean some answers.

A sudden spike of white noise flared through the laptop speakers, making me jump in my seat. The interfering audio was dense and I imagined it was like being submerged in water, straining to hear someone from above the surface.

Through the gelatinous sound, I could make out something that was faint but shrill. I adjusted the various settings, reducing the top layer of audio to bring forth the second. There was definitely something there, a kind of high-pitched screech.

I spliced and looped the recording so that only this particular fragment played on repeat. I continued to localize the sound, dropping layers and attempting to clear it up. But after numerous plays, I was still no closer to flushing out the sound.

Deciding I needed to recruit the expertise and tools my colleagues could provide, I called Emmett.

"Hey Ed, what's up?" Emmett's jovial voice boomed down the line.

"Emmett, hey. I need to ask you a favor. I've got some audio here that I need you to take a look at. I've cleaned it up all I can, but I can hear something in the background under the white noise. I need you to enhance that beyond what I have. Think you can do that?

"No problem, man. Just send me the file. What am I looking for?"

"It's an mp3 I took this morning in Bella's spare room. There's an anomaly between the eleven-fifteen mark and twelve; almost a screeching sound. I need that cleaned up," I said as I attached the file to the email. "I've just sent it. Any chance you could put a rush on it?"

"You got it. Things are kinda quiet here. I guess I can swing it," Emmett laughed. "So how's things in small town America?"

"It's great here. Quiet, but great. And Bella... well, we've become good friends," I sighed, as I recalled the previous night and the way she wrapped herself around me as we fell asleep.

"Just friends? Do I sense a a disturbance in the force? Does Ed have the hots for Bella?

I felt the tips of my ears flame red hot, my chest tightening. "Uh... um."

"You do!" he chortled. "You have the hots for her. Well, I never pegged you to fall for someone on the job. So, have you boned her?"

"Jesus, Emmett. It's not like that. She's... different. She's...," I left it hanging there. There was nothing that could adequately describe my feelings. I just knew it was more than I'd felt for anyone before now.

The line went quiet, but then Emmett spoke up in a softer voice than was usual, "You really like her, don't you?"

"Yeah Em, I think I do." The truth of my acknowledgment hit me like a ton of bricks. The way I felt when I was around her; how she always seemed to make me smile in spite of our current sphere of circumstance, the overwhelming sense of protection I had toward her. A warm tingle surged across my chest and up into my neck at the thought of a serious, committed relationship with Bella. Could we really have that?

Emmett's whistling down the phone turned my attention back to him.

"Just don't say anything, please Emmett."

"Hey man, don't stress. My lips are sealed. Oh, and I just got the email. I'm opening it up now."

Through the phone, I could hear the clattering of computer keys and occasional humming as Emmett worked on the mp3. My own fingers elicited a similar sound as I nervously drummed them on my keyboard. Going through my inbox, I caught with particular interest an email sent from my boss the previous afternoon. I opened it, surprised at its contents:

To: E Cullen - Jenks Science and Research

From: J Jenks, CEO - Jenks Science and Research

Subject: Breach of confidentiality protocols

This is a mass email to all employees of Jenks Research. It has recently been brought to our attention that there has been a security breach within the company. As you know, due to the sensitive nature of our business, we take these types of incidents very seriously. Our Information Technology division has implemented a lockdown on all computer systems, and new temporary passwords are being assigned. Once you have received your temporary password, you are to create a new password, and verify it with a confirmation code that will be sent to you under separate cover. In addition, office doors must now remain locked when unoccupied.

In the upcoming weeks, we will be installing a new security system that will require employees to sign in to all company network access points, including off-site computers, with a wireless network key. Details about the new system will be sent as we near installation.

In the interim, your compliance on all matters as directed above, is appreciated.

...

"Okay, yep I think I can tidy this up." Emmett explained, drawing my mind away from the email and back to him. "You're right, there's definitely something there. The spike in the wavelength at eleven-forty just went off the chart. Whatever it is, it was loud. Leave it with me and I'll keep working on it. I'll call you when I have something."

"Thanks, Em. Before I go, I just read the email that Jenks sent out yesterday. What's the deal with that?"

"Oh, shit yeah. Big news here, man! That weird guy I was telling you about, Peter, well I'm pretty damn sure he no longer works here. The rumor is that he's a schizophrenic gone off his meds. That's why he left you that weird-ass letter I told you about. Apparently, you weren't the only one he sent it to. Word is, he's obsessed with the Philly Experiment and he believes he's a crew member of the Eldridge, and that you're all going to send him into some other dimension or something."

I was silent as I sat absorbing the information I was hearing. The letter I had received, and the one that Emmett had found, had neither of them actually meant anything? Was this all some farce by a mentally disturbed man?

"The whole thing unfolded yesterday afternoon. It's some seriously crazy shit, Ed."

"Yeah, yeah. Sounds like it," I said, mumbling almost incoherently as I processed what I was being told. "Um, I gotta go. Can you just keep working on that audio and call me when you have something?"

Emmett told me he would do just that and we ended the conversation.

The Philadelphia Experiment was the only piece of evidence I had to reply upon to explain how I had 'teleported' from my office to Bella's attic. The physics behind the Unified Field Theory provided the only plausible explanation given the lack of anything else I had to go on.

The revelation that there was no truth to this as a possibility had me reeling, as if the one piece of solid ground which I'd been standing had just been crumbled from underneath me. With no explanation as to how I had managed to appear in Bella's attic, I felt like I was back at square one. Aside from the cryptic keys that held Bella's and my birth dates, there was little else to go on. And the keys themselves were enough of an enigma. The years on the keys were at least thirty-five years apart, and there was nothing else that provided any clues as to why I was not just an observer, but an apparent component of the mysterious occurrences in Bella's house. Not to mention the fact that I had yet to figure out how I got my key in the first place. The fact that it had just somehow found its way into my pocket one night still baffled me.

Frustrated and tired of not getting anywhere, I put the laptop on the coffee table and lay back on the couch, shutting my eyes and emptying my mind.

**...**

My feet are cold. Where is my blanket?

I rub my eyes; they're sleepy. It's so dark in here. There's only a little bit of light from the nightlight mommy turns on for me every night before I go to sleep.

I roll over and see my blanket on the floor. How did it get there?

I have to lean down to pick it up. I can see my cars on the floor. I played with them last night before daddy came in and got angry at me for not going to bed on time. My favorite is the red one, because red means fast.

I pick up my blanket and my car and lie back in bed. I feel better now. My mommy made my blanket when I was a baby. It's blue and has pictures of dinosaurs on it. The T-Rex is my favorite.

I can't sleep. I close my eyes, but they don't want to stay that way. I look at the door. Daddy would make his frowny face if he knew I was awake.

I pick up my car and drive it over my arm and pretend to make car sounds. "Vroom vroom." I need to be quiet so I don't wake mommy and daddy.

Someone is singing. It's a pretty voice. I like the song.

"_Hush little baby, don't say a word..." _

"I can hear you but I can't see you. Where are you? Are you hiding?"

"_Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird..."_

"Are you in my closet? It's really dark in there."

I sit up in my bed and look over at the closet. "You can come out, you know. I won't hurt you. My name is Edward. What's yours?"

The pretty voice doesn't answer me.

I hear a sound outside my room. Mommy or Daddy must have heard me or the pretty voice. I lay back down and close my eyes, pretending to sleep in case they come in.

I keep my eyes closed for a long time but I don't hear anything. I open one eye. Is it safe? I think so. I open my other eye.

"_And if that billy goat won't pull, Papa's going to buy you a cart and bull..." _

The pretty voice is back. "Where are you?" I sit up again and look over to the other side of my room. "There you are."

A pretty lady is standing next to the toy chest that mommy tells me I don't use enough. She looks funny; different to my mommy. Her clothes are strange, and her hair, too. But she's very pretty.

"What's your name?" She doesn't answer, but keeps singing her song. "I like that song. Do you want to see my race-car? This one's red but I have more. Wanna see?"

The pretty lady walks over to my bed, still singing her song. I can see her better now; she looks sad.

"Don't be sad, pretty lady. Please don't cry. If you're lost, I'll help you."

"_And if that horse and cart fall down, you'll still be the sweetest little baby in town." _

The pretty lady's voice sounds sad. She looks lonely. Her hand reaches out to me.

"My baby."

**...**

I sat bolt upright, clutching at the cushions on the couch. My heart pounding in my chest, beating a furious pattern. I couldn't catch my breath, my lungs and throat parched and raw. It felt like something was sitting on my chest, a heavy immovable weight preventing me from drawing breath. Gasping for air, I swallowed large mouthfuls; it seared my chest, painful like heartburn.

_My baby_; those words, something about them sent a chill down my spine.

Moving to sit up, everything around me seemed slow and dull, like the world had been turned upside down. I couldn't get my bearings.

I noticed my shirt clinging to my body, sweat staining the material. My hair was sticking to my forehead; cool and damp around my eyebrows.

With slow, deep inhalations through my nose, I began to feel my equilibrium settle, and the feeling of fuzziness clear.

Slowly, I made my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. The crisp, clean taste of the drink was soothing, and I continued to feel my body relax and unwind.

There was something about the dream that felt familiar to me. As though I'd experienced it before. Taking a seat at the table, I searched my mind, going through the dream and trying to place why it felt so real. I was perhaps five or six years old, in my bedroom of my parent's first house. I remembered the nightlight beside my bed. It was a turtle. The toy chest in the corner of the room my dad had built for me to keep all of my toys off of the floor. My room in the dream was exactly as I remembered it when I was a child. But the woman in it, I couldn't place her. Her face wasn't familiar to me as any of my mother's friends, but there was something about it that struck a chord with my memory. Images of her started flashing before me like strobe lights, as though they were trying to tell me something. Her dress wasn't current. It was cinched in at the waist and flowed out in a crisp line until just below her knees. Its shoulders, too, were puffed out slightly, making her already trim waste look even more tiny. Her hair was styled in waves that were of another era. She carried herself with a distinct formality, a determined poise and grace that echoed of another place and time. Even her voice, soft, yet confident, had a maternal warmth to it. She almost reminded me of one of the picture-perfect mothers from one of those old black and white television shows.

A nervous but strangely excited thrill buzzed through me as the pieces fell into place. I had to get back to my room at the bed and breakfast and confirm my suspicions. I stood gamely, and made my way to the living room, collecting my things to leave.

As I approached the front door, it opened, Bella appearing from the other side.

"Hey you. Oh, you're on your way out?" She said, having seen the bag in my hands. "Edward, you look awful. You can't go out like that."

"Uh yeah, I have to check something back at the B and B. This is going to sound strange, but I had a dream... a very real dream, and I need to go check it out. You can come with me, if you want?"

"Okay, yeah sure. But we're getting you another shirt when we get to your room. That one's all sweaty."

We left the house and made our way over to Bella's car. The drive was quiet, and I could see Bella casting errant glaces at me from the corner of her eye, giving something serious consideration. I couldn't allow my mind to wander, though, being too focused on the hows and what-ifs of what I expected to find when I returned to my room.

We pulled up out the front of the large house serving as my home away from home, and I got out of the car. Bella followed behind as I made my way up the steps to the front door. Greeting the owner, Mrs. Wilkie, with an amiable wave and a hello, we went to my room at the end of the hall.

My bed was unmade from the night before last, and my suitcase lay open on the table, full of shirts and pants in need of laundering. On the far side of the room, propped up against the side of the dressing table was what I was looking for - the painting.

Briskly, I walked over to it, my breath quickening with each step, but I knew before I got there that I had my answer. It was her. The woman in the painting, who was most likely Elizabeth Masen, was the same woman from my dream.

I ran my fingers lightly across the surface, over her painted cheek. "It was you," I softly muttered.

"What about her, Edward? Did something happen?" Bella said from behind me, her words rushed with an air of desperation.

I turned around to face Bella, and beckoned her to come over to me with a crooked finger. "The dream I mentioned. Well, I saw this woman in it. She looked almost exactly the same, but in different clothes. I was in my childhood bed, and she was there, singing that song you said you've heard, the _Hush, little baby_, one. And then she moved over to me, reached out and said 'my baby,' and that was when I woke up."

Bella stepped away from me, moving over to my bed and sitting down. I watched her exhale deeply, a curious shadow cast over her face.

"So, what does this mean?"

"Well," I said, sitting down beside her, "I'm not one-hundred percent sure yet. But there was something about the dream that felt as though I'd had it before. It was the weirdest feeling, like déjà vu. We really need to find out who painted it; I need to irrefutably confirm that the woman is Elizabeth Masen."

**...**

By the time Bella and I returned to her house, what was left of the sun was streaking a brilliant intensity through the trees in her front yard. The sky was littered with dense purple-hued clouds, a sure sign that rain was on its way.

As we sat on my bed back at the B and B, we discussed my dream at length, postulating on what it could mean if Elizabeth was the woman in the painting. I told Bella that there was something about the dream that felt intimate in a way that I couldn't explain, other than to say it felt like I'd had it before. But, I had no memory of that.

With the revelations of the past few days, I had been remiss in following up with the woman at the diner, Mavis. I reminded Bella of her, and how the librarian recommended we speak to her. We agreed on stopping by the next day.

"Any idea on when Emmett will get back to you?" Bella asked, as we took the steps to the front door.

"I'm not exactly sure. He just said he'll call when he has something. It's getting late though, so I'm not sure we can expect a call tonight."

Bella asked if I would stay for dinner, an invitation I happily accepted. While I was mindful to not pressure or crowd her, the growing need I felt to be in her company almost superseded logic.

We were in the kitchen washing the dishes when my phone rang. "It's Emmett," I said, before answering. "Hey Em, are you still at the office?"

"Yeah man, I was supposed to be home ages ago, Rosie's gonna kill me for skipping out on our date, but this recording, I had to stay back and work on it. It's insane," he said, sounding weary, yet animated.

"So, you found something?" Bella put down her dishcloth and took a seat at the table. I followed her lead, sitting beside her.

"Yeah, I've sent the file to your email. Do you have your laptop there?"

"Hang on, it's just in the other room." I got up and walked to the living room and brought it back, setting it up on the table. "It's just starting up now."

"Okay, well I spent the afternoon working on it. You'd actually done a pretty good job of it yourself, but hey, we both know I am the man," he chuckled.

The computer completed the start-up process and I logged into my email, opening the one Emmett sent and seeing an attached audio file there. "I've got the file here. Anything else I need to know before I play it?"

"Nope, it's all there, listen for yourselves."

I hit play and waited; the crackle that was there this morning, all but gone. The recording sounded slightly warped, a remnant of it being filtered as much as the tape allowed. I felt Bella take my hand, entwining her fingers with mine. The room fell silent as we waited with bated breath; a nervous fluttering in my stomach gradually increasing as the seconds ticked on.

Time felt as though it stood still; both of our breaths hitched, Bella's fingers clamped down on mine, a tremble evident as she gripped my hand so tight that her skin was stretched taut, her knuckles turning a pale pink as the blood drained away from the surface.

"It's all your fault."

**...**

**A rather large puzzle piece answered there, yes?**

**I'm going to endevour to update next on the anniversary of this story. I won't make promises though. Thank you to the people who helped me with this chapter when it was an unbelievable struggle: OneBraveLamb, alonelily, bellalove72 and KiyaRaven without whose help this chapter would still be a long time coming.**

**Thank you for reading.  
**

**Until next time...**


	15. Apperception

**Thank you for the kind and enlightening reviews for the previous chapter. It's hard to believe that I started writing this story just over a year ago. Its reception has been more than I had hoped for. **

**Many kind thanks to Irritable Grizzzly for her editing prowess. Also, to Bellalove72 and OneBraveLamb: your support with prereading is always appreciated. **

**...**

**Apperception**

**Bella**

Every moment that had led up to that specific one could not have prepared me for what I'd heard. The voice on the recording was clearly female, imbued with bitterness. The words were angry, seething. And they were words I'd labeled myself with my whole life. I was to blame. I was guilty. After all, it was my very birth that killed my mother. I'd also driven my husband away, whether it was because of my nature or my shortcomings as a wife. So yes, I knew what those words meant.

I released my hand from Edward's and pushed my chair from the table, the sound of it squeaking along the floor, snapping Edward out of his fixation as he looked up at me. Seeing the confusion on his face, I dropped my focus to my lap, unable to look at him.

I heard him mumble some words into the phone, followed by "Thanks, Em. Speak soon."

I stood and scrambled for the living room. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes, feelings of claustrophobia advancing on me.

A war was being waged in my head: one side arguing, begging, that I not listen to the nagging voice of doubt; the other championing me for walking away - for giving into the seed it had planted.

The comfortable and easy feeling of being around Edward was shattered, smashed into a million pieces all in a matter of seconds.

He came up behind me, tenderly taking my shoulders as though I were a precious porcelain doll. The desire to relax back into his hold was strong, but the voice telling me to walk now before I did something to send him away, was stronger. With an exhale of defeat, I removed myself from his hold and crossed to the other side of the room, creating a barrier between us.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Edward asked, as he began to walking toward me.

I placed my hand out in front of me. "Please, just... I need to be alone."

"Bella, please. Whatever's wrong, let me help," he said, sounding flustered and distressed by my actions.

"You can't right now, Edward. I'm sorry if I'm confusing or upsetting you, but I really just need to be alone. Would you mind?" Instead of heeding my request, he took another step in my direction. "Please," I said, loudly, "would you just leave?"

His face contorted in anguish and shock and his reaction sent a fresh wave of guilt through me as I grasped onto the mantle to hold myself up. All I did was continue to hurt people I cared for.

"I don't understand what's going on, Bella," Edward's voice wavered, "but trust me when I say I will find out. I'll be back tomorrow." He paused, grabbing at the back of his neck, and then quietly but reverently entreated, "take care of yourself until then."

I couldn't watch as Edward turned away from me and walked to the door. When it slammed shut, I couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Now it was my mind at war with my body. As the voices in my head kept screaming that I did the right thing, my body felt weak and sick. I just had to trust and believe that I'd done the right thing.

Hearing the sound of Edward's car starting up, I walked on shaky legs across the room, opening the front door just as he was backing out onto the road. The dim trail of the headlights shone on my wooden fence as the car drove off.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as I clung to the doorjamb to stay upright.

I remained there, staring out at my front yard for some time until the cold finally got to me.

There was a palpable silence. It was as though everything within hearing distance had died. Though it was an eerie thought, there was something comforting about it. Nothing bad could happen when there was no one around to get hurt. My presence couldn't inflict pain or despair on anyone, no matter how accidental it may be.

My dad had reassured me constantly that I was not to blame for the death of my mother, but how could that be? It was my birth that killed her! There was nothing that could change that fact.

And Embry: There was no rhyme or reason to his actions. One day he was fine, hugging me before I left for work, and the next it was all over. I thought I was past it, but the confusion over his actions remained, just as prevalent as ever. I had to have done or said something, or not have been what he needed. Husbands just don't walk out on their wives without reason. Was I too focused on my career and not supportive enough? Where had I failed?

I staggered back to the living room where I collapsed into my chair, an emotionally exhausted wreck. I couldn't deny my feelings for Edward. They were stronger, more... honest than those I'd had for Embry, but that only meant that I had to keep him at arm's length. The pain would be far worse when I'd inevitably hurt him and he'd leave like all the others. It was better to spare us both.

With my resolution made, albeit a weak one, I knew that I had to stop what was happening between us before it went any further.

I was extremely weary and drained, but the last thing I wanted to do was sleep. The very idea of being alone in my room, in the bed Edward and I had shared, was something I didn't have the strength to face.

Despite the increasing cold, I remained in the chair, staring at the wall in front of me, marinating in feelings of shame and inadequacy. No matter what step I took, it seemed to cause inevitable hurt to someone around me. Even when I tried to spare Edward my failings, I wound up making him feel rejected and hurting him anyway. I couldn't think of anything but his expression since he left.

Still, there was no way for me to repair the damage I'd done, and would continue to do if we continued. The longer he stayed in Forks, the worse it would be for him. Selfishly, I acknowledged that it would be too much for me to handle seeing him every day. I had to restrict the tone of our relationship to a purely a business transaction.

It was all I could do. I had to throw myself into finding the answers. I needed a distraction, I needed to snuff out the flames of my feelings for Edward. We couldn't be. It wouldn't be fair to him.

**...**

Elizabeth's letters had been stowed in the bureau on the far side of the room. I made my way over to the desk, and retrieved the bundle that I'd separated into two piles: read and unread. I returned to my chair and wrapped a blanket around my knees.

Opening the first letter from the unread bunch, I admired the delicate penmanship that curled and flowed; words of a bygone era telling a story of a life that was bound to mine in some perplexing fashion.

'_My dear baby,_

_As I sit at the piano and think of your father and all that he is doing for our country, I am warmed that he will return soon, hopefully in time to be here as you become a part of our family. _

_It is hard being apart from him while he is away at this godforsaken war. I pass the time writing to you both, cooking your father's favorite dessert of apple pie, and playing the last song that we danced to before he was shipped off: _As Time Goes By_. I simply cannot wait until you are finally here. I so look forward to teaching you how to play the piano and all the other delights a young family should partake in.'_

My breath caught as I read about how Elizabeth enjoyed making apple pie. The memory of the random scent that permeated the kitchen when I'd moved in was still strong in my mind. But it was the mention of the song - her favorite song, no less - that had me feeling like I was on the cusp of discovering who Elizabeth was, and just how she was connected so inexplicably to Edward and me.

I felt the thrill of that acknowledgment as I took the next letter out of the envelope and unfolded it. The script of this letter was barely legible. I scanned the page looking for words I could make out, hoping I could piece together what was being said. In the corner of the page, all that was written was _March _with no actual date. Beneath that, the word _Edward _was scrawled, barely legible. _- _His name was written furiously and multiple times. It was clear that something had happened to cause Elizabeth to become so emotional and distraught that her usually perfect cursive had degenerated into a tangle of misshapen forms made by a very shaky hand.

I opened more letters, hoping to find out what had happened, but the script on each page continued to grow increasingly more indecipherable. Deep indents from her pen almost pierced the page in some places, and in others there were scribbles of words that looked vaguely like hymns. I reached the end of the letters, still with no answers to shed any light on the cause of her pain. .

Tears of frustration spilled from my eyes, landing on the paper in my hands. "I can't begin to know what happened to you Mrs Masen," I cried, not knowing why I was even talking out loud. It sounded absurd to my own ears, but I felt a connection to her that fostered sympathy.

As more tears clouded my vision, it occurred to me that maybe there was something in her chest that would provide more answers.

With that thought, I immediately felt a constriction in my chest. Contemplating going into the attic alone remained a frightening concept, but the nagging desire to discover more about Elizabeth was enough to get me out of my seat and begin climbing the stairs toward the attic, grabbing the keys to the chest and a flashlight from the side table drawer on the way.

As I reached the top of the stairs and was facing the spare room, I backed up against the opposite wall, wanting to keep as much distance between me and the room that had brought about more nefarious behavior than the rest of the house combined.

When I reached the door to the attic, I exhaled and rolled my shoulders in a moot effort to calm myself. Then I began taking each step one at a time. My heart was beating a dull thud, pushing adrenalin-fueled blood through my body as I got closer to the dark cavity that was the epicenter of all my unanswered questions.

When I got there and looked around, I took in the graying light illuminating the far wall, adding to the unnerving atmosphere.

I flicked on the flashlight, pointing it in the direction of the chest. My only goal was to find out if there was anything besides the baby clothes and toys inside the chest, and then get out of there.

I hustled over and kneeled down, pausing to admire it. The antiquity was truly precious and it awed me. Retrieving the keys from my pocket, I put the end of the flashlight in my mouth, leaving both hands free, to release both locks simultaneously.

The lid was heavy, its tired groan echoing throughout the room.

Nestled at the bottom of the chest were the plastic-covered clothes and toys destined for Elizabeth's baby. Seeing those innocuous items, with the clarity of mind that the letters afforded, was heartwarming. The love that Elizabeth felt for her unborn child was obvious. Vintage tin trucks rested atop the clothes, along with a familiar-looking chimp on a tricycle - another toy that surely would fetch quite a sum for antique dealers. Amongst the typical toys for a young boy, were a number of teddies: some small, some large, and all in mint condition.

I picked one up, running my fingers across its soft mohair-covered face with deference. Its rusted yellow fur was clothed in dark overalls. As I admired the bear, I noticed a large bulge underneath the front of its clothes. I ran my thumbs over it, noting its thickness, and then I slipped the overalls off each shoulder, shimmying them down over its midsection.

The loud clunk of the flashlight hitting the floor startled me, the muscles of my jaw feeling the strain of holding it there so long. I picked it up and pointed it at the wad that had fallen into my lap. The thin parcel of white paper was bound by a piece of string, not unlike what was wrapped around the package I'd found just over a week prior.

I felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation because while I was certain of what was in my hands, I had no way of knowing the precise contents. This paper may give me the answers as to what had caused Elizabeth's obvious and disturbing breakdown.

I removed the string, the papers flipping back with the force of having been held under pressure for some time. A small piece of paper fluttered off the top before falling down to land on my legs. I picked it up and read it eagerly.

**Western Union**

Government D.25PD Washington D.C March 3, 2:38 P.M

Mrs Elizabeth Masen, 5839 Fern Hill Road, Forks, Wash.

The Secretary of war deeply regrets to inform you that your husband, Capt. Masen Edward, was killed in action in Italy area 3 Feb 44. Confirming letter to follow.

Ulio, the Adjutant General.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, seized with grief and sorrow for Elizabeth's loss, the method of disclosure heightening the emotions.

I could only imagine how completely destroying it must have been to open the door and find the military man on the other side, knowing why he was there.

And to learn of it when carrying his child.

"Oh dear God, no." I said, shaking my head back and forth. I couldn't comprehend the enormity of the change in Elizabeth's life. Her letters expressed such joy, so much elation to bring her baby into the world, and to be a family when her husband returned from his duties. All of that was suddenly gone; it had been taken away from her with the arrival of the piece of paper that I held in my hands.

I picked up the teddy bear and hugged it close to me, searching for some comfort. The air was dank and stifled, and the anxiety I had shelved to enter the room began seeping into my consciousness, bringing with it feelings of claustrophobia.

I closed the chest, removing the keys from their locks, and putting the collection of letters back inside the bear, taking it with me as I left the room.

**...**

I returned to the chair in the living room, and pulled the rug off the back, draping it over myself.

The reading lamp beside the chair bathed the room in a gentle warmth. With the bear in my lap, I searched through the other package of letters, looking for the one that announced Elizabeth's pregnancy. There was something about the date on the telegram that didn't sit well with me. I felt compelled to check it against the dates on the letters Elizabeth wrote announcing her pregnancy. I found the one I was looking for near the bottom of the pile and pulled it out to read the date.

_February 24, 1944. _

Edward Masen had died not knowing his wife was pregnant with his child, and Elizabeth was left alone to raise her baby. .

I withdrew the remaining letters from inside the bear and thumbed through them, not sure what I was hoping to find. The concerned voyeur in me prayed that no more sadness befell the Masen family.

Indecipherable scribbles continued on each page, scant legible words revealing a brief moment of lucidity, perhaps? Images of a broken woman, wasting away extolling her grief onto pages in a room, the drapes drawn, flooded my mind.

As I continued, my own grief for the Masens exhausted me. Consumed by a hollow feeling I struggled to keep my eyes open, the page before me blurring as I closed my eyes.

**...**

A loud knocking woke me. I moved sleepily to the door, opening it to a glaring sun-bathing Alice with bags in her hands. "Morning Bella," she said cheerfully, her perky voice not too dissimilar from the sing-songing birds. "I'm keeping up my end of the bargain. I know I said I'd arrange lunch when you moved in, but breakfast is my favorite meal, so you know, I thought I'd stop by with some croissants and tea." She stepped past me, continuing to talk a mile a minute.

Finally acknowledging my current state, she asked, "Did I wake you? Oh, I'm sorry, Bella. But since you're awake, let's eat." Too tired to argue, I followed her into the living room where she proceeded to take the food out of the bags.

After breakfast, Alice asked me how everything was going, and if we were any closer to learning anything. After bringing her up to speed on the events of yesterday, I showed her the letters and explained what I'd read.

"Oh God, that's so sad. Have you read the rest of the letters? I mean there's got to be some mention of the baby, right?"

"I hadn't gotten that far yet. I was reading through them and fell asleep, and then you showed up."

"Well, there's no time like the present. Where's the next letter? I'll help you go through them.

I gave her a section and she dove in, eager to lend a hand.

"Bella, none of it makes sense. It's all just nonsensical gibberish words, some I can't even understand." I nodded. The letters hadn't gotten any better than the ones I'd read yesterday. "Hang on, I may have something here." Alice said, turning to me with one of the letters, pointing to a few lines, "Is this is hymn?"

Asleep in Jesus! Peaceful rest,

Whose waking is supremely blessed;

No fear, no woe, shall dim that hour

That manifests the Saviour's power.

"I'm not sure, but it looks like one. Possibly a sermon or something? Keep reading, maybe there are some more?" I was nearing the last few when I came to an envelope addressed to Mrs. Masen. I opened it and removed the thick card.

_Dear Mrs Masen, 12 March, 1944_

_I was so sorry to learn of the passing of both your husband, and your baby. Please accept our heartfelt condolences in your time of sorrow. _

_We are here should you need anything._

_You are in our prayers, _

_Mr and Mrs Fisher. _

Elizabeth had miscarried?

"Bella, hey hey, what's wrong?" Alice startled me, kneeling at my feet, her hand on my knee. "What's going on?"

I turned the letter around for Alice to read. Her bottom lip quivered as her eyes volleyed back and forth over the page, her voice quiet as she spoke, "God, that poor woman. So much loss." She looked up at me and asked, "Don't you think Edward should see this? When will he be back?"

"Hmm? Oh, I... um. I don't know," I fought through the tears as I looked down at the floor.

"Bella, look at me. Did something happen? What's wrong?" Her voice was calm and non-combative, but I felt attacked all the same.

I stood and crossed the room, needing some distance from Alice and her questions. I knew she was just concerned, but I couldn't handle her onslaught.

"I told him to leave last night, okay? I just... we can't. We need to just keep things professional and figure out what the hell is going on. Then he can go back to his life, and I can go back to mine."

"But you guys-"

"No, Alice. There is no 'you guys'. There can't be!" I yelled."What I want doesn't mean a thing. I can't have Edward. I'll fuck it up. Just like I did with Embry."

It felt like a valve had been opened, and I gripped the table beside me. "It's not fair. Everyone leaves. What am I doing wrong?" On the table sat marked schoolwork in neat piles, taunting me. I swung my arm along the top, sending the papers flying.

"Bella, stop! You need to stop. Just calm down," Alice demanded, grabbing me at the shoulders and spinning me to face her. "It's not your fault."

"You're wrong. It is my fault. So just stop okay? I know what you're going to say and it doesn't change anything."

"Hey, I heard yelling in here. Is everything all right?" Edward rushed in, coming over to stand by me. He went to take my hand, but I pulled it away before he could. He looked hurt as he dropped his hand.

I turned from him and went back to the couch. I could hear Alice behind me, assuring Edward that everything was fine, and that we'd just learned of some upsetting news. Together they walked around to the couch and sat down, Edward beside me. As he read through the letter, he muttered under his breath. "Where did you find this?"

"I um... I went up to the attic. The letter was with a bunch of others stuffed inside this teddy," I explained as I reached behind me and showed both of them the bear.

"You went up there alone? Bella you shouldn't have done that! I promised you I'd figure this out. Please don't do that again." His voice was commanding, but softened as he asked for the teddy and I gave it to him. He inspected it, as if wondering why the letters were stuffed in it.

"I was thinking maybe the stress of hearing she lost her husband brought on her miscarriage?"

"It sounds plausible, but we may never know. It would explain why she seemed sad in my dream."

"What dream?" Alice questioned as she took the bear from Edward and sat it on her lap.

Edward described the dream to Alice, telling her about his childhood bedroom, the strange appearance of the lullaby, and how the woman looked identical to the painting of the woman we believed to be Elizabeth Masen. Then he turned to me again, reaching in my direction.

"Alice!" I jumped up. Alice had slumped over, her body collapsing in on itself limply. Edward and I carefully hefted her up, taking in her sunken eyes that had rolled back into her head. I felt for her pulse, which was thrumming a quickened beat. Her skin was pale and dewy. "Come on, Alice. Wake up." I pleaded. Edward left the room, but quickly returned with a cold compress. I laid it across her forehead, hoping to cool her off.

I clasped her hand, panicked that she wasn't coming to, when she finally took a large gasping breath as though she'd been starved of oxygen. Her eyes opened widely, focusing immediately on Edward and she rasped, "You. I saw you."

"What are you talking about, Alice?" I passed her some orange juice and waited.

She locked eyes with Edward. "I saw you and a woman with wavy red hair. You were in one of those old vintage cars, like the ones from _Back to the Future_. She was so happy, but you weren't. And then it all went dark... murky. There was a child, maybe six-years-old; he was waving to his mother from the front gate, and he held the same teddy bear." Alice exclaimed, her pupils swimming. "Your front gate, Bella. It was the front of this house."

"Did you see anything else?" I asked, my excitement building, but not wanting to get my hopes up about something that may be nothing.

"Yeah, after that-" Alice, visibly affected, looked away, steeling herself to continue. "Edward, the woman you waved to collapsed to the floor. She was wailing, crying out for someone, but I couldn't tell who. I'm sorry I can't-"

"It's okay," I replied, running my hands along her arm, trying to console her as best I could.

"Edward, what did Elizabeth look like? Alice asked, sniffling.

"She had a pretty face, very feminine. Typical forties or fifties dress, oh and her hair was brown, curly at the back."

"Pinned at the top and sides?"

"Yes." Edward nodded. "We saw the same woman. But you said she had red hair."

"I did, but she was younger, and not the same woman that was crying on the floor." Alice's eyes clouded over briefly, and she began mumbling words and shaking her head. She looked at up Edward and me, opening her mouth to speak, but then stopped and mumbled to herself once more. After a few moments she squared her shoulders and sat back into the couch.

"Everything okay, Alice?" I asked tentatively.

"Hmm? Oh yeah." She looked up at us, clearly distracted. "Um, I think so? Edward, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I think you were Elizabeth's baby."

I watched on, slack-jawed, as Edward considered Alice's words. His Adam's apple bobbed in and he clenched his eyes shut, rubbing at them as though they were irritated. Nothing Alice said made any sense. How could he be Elizabeth's son?

"Think about it Edward: her baby had the same name, you somehow have a key to her memory chest, and there's that lullaby; plus your dream and my vision," She said, her voice becoming more impassioned as she went.

"You're saying I'm reincarnated?" Edward asked disbelieving, scoffing.

"Yes. No. I don't know. It's just what I saw. And it fits. You come up with another solution."

"I don't have one, but I don't believe in reincarnation."

"Just because you don't believe in it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist." Alice replied in a haughty tone. "It's just a theory. There could be others."

I couldn't deny Alice her thoughts about that. Nothing could be denied as a possibility with everything that had happened. As far-fetched as it sounded, I was open to just about anything, as long as answers were forthcoming.

**...**

**Edward**

Alice's conclusion was preposterous, based purely on theological concepts that I didn't subscribe to. But something about her notion weighed heavily on me. I couldn't come up with a feasible explanation as to why Elizabeth felt so familiar to me. There was a connection that I felt to her that was tactile, rooted in emotion.

There was simply no way to empirically prove it, and I owed it to Bella and myself to discern exactly what was going on.

I arrived at Bella's early that morning after a sleepless night. The change in her mood had been so mercurial; one moment she was fine, though understandably tense given the situation, and the next she couldn't stand to be near me.

I'd lain in bed all night fruitlessly going over the night's events, trying to find what had been the catalyst for her abrupt mood swing. With the painting of Elizabeth staring at me, I'd given up on sleep and spent the night going over all the evidence, feeling no more close to an answer than I had earlier that day.

When I got to Bella's the next morning, I was worried when I thought I heard screams coming from inside. Then I tried to take her hand and she moved it away. I could tell she was upset and I wanted to comfort her, but she wouldn't let me.

I didn't want to make a big deal out of it while Alice was there, but I wasn't going to let it go. We had acknowledged our growing feelings for one another, and I wasn't going to let her walk away.

Alice took off, saying she had plans to see her husband for lunch, leaving Bella and me free to drop by the diner and speak with Mavis. As she'd walked past me on her way to the door, she turned back and said "It will all sort itself out, Edward. Just be patient," and then winked. With that wink, she was obviously letting me know she was referring to more than just answers about the house.

I turned to look at Bella, who sat beside me. She had discreetly placed a cushion beside her, fortifying the space between us, letting me know not to come any closer. As she nibbled on her lip, she cast furtive glances in my direction, her nervousness near-palpable, reverting to the shy woman she was when I first met her.

With a sigh of resignation I asked, "Bella, what's going on here. Why are you being like this?"

"Look, we both know this won't work," Bella asserted. "You'll go back to Texas, and I'll stay here. I'm not interested in a long-distance relationship. I'm sorry I messed with your head, but it's better this way."

Stunned that she was giving up so quickly, I argued with her. "No Bella, you're wrong. We have a shot at something real here. And you're just too proud to give it a go. I like you, I really do. And I know you feel something for me too." I leaned in taking her hands swiftly before she had a chance to move them away. "I'm not giving up on this... us. You can try all you want, but I'm not going anywhere." As the words formed on my tongue, I knew it was the absolute truth. I was falling for Bella, and she could fight me all she wanted, but I wasn't prepared to walk away.

"It doesn't matter. I've made up my mind." I could see the determination gleaming in her eyes, locked steadfastly on mine. "Now can we please just go and see this Mavis person? I just want some answers already."

**...**

In the car on the way to diner, I could think of nothing but what Bella had said. It completely contradicted her thoughts from the previous day. I understood women could change their minds frequently, but Bella didn't seem the impetuous type. There had to be something more to her argument than just not wanting a long-distance relationship.

I pulled up outside the diner and we both got out of the car. It looked reasonably busy from the lunch rush. I hoped Mavis was working, and that she could spare a few moments of her time.

I had to fight over the din of people. She stiffened as I placed my hand against her back, guiding her to the empty table. We took our seats and a young girl came over to take our order. I explained we were there to see Mavis, and were informed she was the owner. We each ordered a drink.

"Did you not know Mavis is the owner," I asked, assuming she would know something like that, given it was such a small town.

"No, I didn't. I've heard the name around but I've never met her."

The same young girl quickly returned with our drinks. I took a sip of my lemonade as I thought this piece of information over. Was Mavis new to town? That didn't sound right, given that the librarian said she was quite the gossip-monger. I was lost to my thoughts when a short, portly woman with graying hair hobbled over, wiping her hands on her apron. She looked at me with a raised eyebrow, a questioning look on her face. "Janey said you wanted to see me. Is there something wrong with your meals?"

"No no, not at all. Please," I gestured to the seat on the opposite side of the table and Mavis sat down. "My name is Edward Cullen, and this is Bella Swan. She owns the manor on the outskirts of town. We have some questions and I was hoping you might be able to help us."

She inhaled deeply and sat back in her chair. "I know who you are, Mr Cullen. Took you long enough to get here."

**...**

**I'd apologize for the cliffhanger, but I'm mean and just love annoying you all. **

**The reference to the Western Union telegram was taken from real images. The hymn used is called "Asleep in Jesus." Links for both are below for those interested. **

**The next chapter is well underway. I will endeavor to update more frequently as we approach the end of the story. I understand that with mysteries momentum is key. I estimate at this point that there are 4-6 chapters remaining. **

**Thank you all for reading. I look forward to learning your thoughts. **

http:/www [dot] in-honored-glory [dot] info/jpg/stories/fredanderson26 [dot] jpg

http:/www [dot] hymns [dot] me [dot] uk/asleep-in-jesus-funeral-hymn [dot] htm


	16. Genesis

**The last chapter received the most reviews of any of this story to date. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts, it was a pleasure to read them. I tried to respond to all, but I apologize if I missed you. **

**I'd particularly like to thank those who read into the the association of the chapter title and the content of the chapter. Its link is both in the philosophical and epistemological context. So props to those who picked up on that. **

**Irritable Grizzzly betas, Bellalove72 and OneBraveLamb preread. Many thanks to these wonderful ladies.  
**

**I do believe you've all been waiting long enough to hear what Mavis has to say, so without further ado, I give you the next installment. **

**...**

**Genesis**

**Edward  
**

I could see movement all around me, everyone in the diner carrying on as though the woman in front of me hadn't just uttered those words. The ringing in my ears confirmed my sense of disorientation. "I- I'm sorry could you repeat that?"

"I said, that it took you long enough to get here. You see, I've been waiting for you for some time." And with the smile threatening to break free, she continued, "I'm sorry to shock you like that; please let me explain."

I nodded dumbly.

"My father William was what you'd call an 'artisan.' He dabbled in a lot of things, but became well-known for his paintings. That's how he met Elizabeth. He painted a portrait of her and her husband."

"Casablanca," Bella muttered.

Mavis looked at us blankly, obviously puzzled.

Bella explained, "I found a portrait of Elizabeth and her husband in the attic. They were posed like the couple from Casablanca."

"I've never seen the painting myself, but I suppose that's probably the one, since I doubt she had any others commissioned. Anyway, he found some success with his paintings, but wanted to try other things. He got into woodcraft and became quite good at it, and so about a year later Elizabeth asked him to make her a large chest. She told him it was for her baby. I'm guessing you've found the keys?"

"How do you know about the keys?" My tone must have sounded accusatory, but I was taken aback. How much did this woman know?

"Don't worry, I'll get to that," she said with a nod. "Elizabeth gave my father a list of specifications for the chest. Apparently she was quite particular and only wanted the very best for her baby. He spent many months on it, sourcing the wood that Elizabeth wanted: Californian black oak, I think it was. He crafted every last carving on it Of course he wanted her to be pleased with the chest, but he also had affections for her and so put some extra loving care into it. Unfortunately, by the time he finished it, she'd miscarried." She looked at us and took off her apron, setting it beside her. "So my father was surprised when she still wanted it."

The girl that Mavis referred to as Janey walked by. She called her back and asked for a cup of coffee. "You folks want anything? We could be here a while."

We both got more lemonade and I took a bite of my roll.

"You said you'd tell us about the keys," Bella said softly, in direct contrast to her rigid posture, with her back against the vinyl seat, hands clasped in her lap.

"Yes, well, then the story skips ahead some fifteen or so years. My father had kept in contact with Elizabeth over that time. I think he was hoping that his affections for her would be returned at some point, what with them both being lonely widowers. But Elizabeth politely declined his interest, saying she wanted to remain true and faithful to her husband's memory.

"About eight years after Elizabeth lost her husband and baby, her neighbors died in a car accident, leaving behind their daughter, who was seven at the time. The little girl had no other family to live with, so Elizabeth took her in."

"None of Elizabeth's letters mention a little girl," I replied, looking over at Bella to confirm that was true. She nodded, and then hurriedly turned back to Mavis.

"I don't know why Elizabeth wouldn't mention her. I was only a little one myself at the time of the accident, and I wasn't around because I was sent to live with my mom's family when she passed. But what I can tell you is that as the years passed, this girl apparently became a real handful, getting about town with older boys and causing trouble." She paused to take a sip of her coffee. "Now I don't know all the details, but Elizabeth had my father remove the chest and make some alterations. I believe she was trying to prevent the young girl from getting into it.

"What do you mean 'alterations'?"

"She wanted two new locks put in place of the single one. Again, I don't really know why, but my father said that Elizabeth was certain there needed to be two. That her 'journey', she said with air quotes, "dictated it."

"What did she mean by 'her journey'? Bella asked, clearly as perplexed as I was.

Mavis shrugged and then looked at each of us. "I don't know. That was never explained to me. I'm just the messenger." She took a sip of her coffee and continued, "Anyway, my dad got to work on the changes. He blocked up the existing lock on the front and put a new one on each side and then had a locksmith buddy craft the new keys just as Elizabeth had requested."

I was silent as I processed this information. At every turn there appeared to be a new roadblock, a wall designed to prevent me from getting to the bottom of the story.

"The keys have dates on them. What do you know about that?" Bella's voice rose above the clatter.

"I'm aware of the numbers on the keys, yes, but I don't know what they mean."

"For a messenger you don't know much, do you?" I scoffed. She seemed eager to tell her story, but she was being so cryptic. I couldn't determine if she was telling the truth and she simply didn't know the details, or if there was something more sinister going on.

"Edward, I was given the task of making sure you got the key. Beyond that, I was privy to very little. Now that's not to say I'm not curious of course," she smirked. "When your father entrusts you with a key to pass down to someone, and tells you that it's your job to track them down, the curiosity is overwhelming, believe me."

"I understand. I'm the same way, but how did you find me?" I probed, tapping one foot against the other, feeling impatient and sick of her being unhelpful. I wanted solid information.

"Pure luck. I was in Texas until very recently, visiting my son, Peter. He has schizophrenia and-"

"Wait, Peter O'Halloran?" I spat, becoming incensed, the pieces of the puzzle fast falling into place. "Your son, and the janitor from my work, are one and the same?

"Yes," she replied, sitting up straighter, a fierce look in her eyes. "Peter meant no harm; he just got a little... enthusiastic."

"A little enthusiastic?" I yelled, and people at nearby tables turned to see what was going on. I waited a moment for them to go about their business, and then lowered my voice. "He left strange messages on my desk. And then there's the wallpaper and the key. What was that?"

"I do apologize for the messages. Peter has an unhealthy obsession with myths and conspiracies, the latest being the Philadelphia Experiment. But the wallpaper and keys, that was my doing.

I went to say something, but Mavis raised her hand.

"When my father was no longer strong enough to keep up his search for you, he asked me to take over. For some years I thought the whole thing was crazy, looking for some faceless person in a crowd who could be anywhere. You were the proverbial needle in a haystack."

I was confused. Mavis' disarming rhetoric posed more questions than answers. "I don't understand. How were you supposed to find me?"

"I was told two things: your first name was Edward, and you liked to hum _Hush, Little Baby_. Neither of those gave me much to work with, until Peter came home from work not long ago and told me he'd heard someone humming the song. I thought it was odd that an adult would be humming that at work of all places and out of curiosity I asked Peter if he knew the person's name. As you can imagine I was shocked when he told me."

"So what? You just took it upon yourself to make me think I was going insane? How did you even-"

"You went to dinner with some friends and I followed you. When you passed by me I slipped the key into your pocket."

I clenched my fists at my side in anger. I'd been manipulated and I felt violated. "And the wallpaper?"

Dropping her head shamefully, she faintly explained, "I came to your office a few days later under the pretense of dropping something off for Peter, and he showed me your office. You weren't there, but you left your jacket draped over your chair. As for what it means, it was to accompany the key. That's all I know."

"That doesn't answer my question," I seethed through clamped teeth. "You played with me. You messed with my head. I thought I was going insane. You had no right! I want to know why." I stared her down, determined to make her feel as uncomfortable as I felt, to force her hand into giving me the answers I sought.

Mavis kept her head down, not reacting to a loud crash coming from the kitchen area. Bella reached her hand out in a conciliatory gesture. "Please Mavis, whatever you know could really help us."

"Don't you think I understand that?" She looked up at us, a tempest brewing in her eyes. "You think I want to make you even more lost than you clearly already are?" Mavis gripped the mug in her hand, the steam from the beverage wafting above her. She paused a moment, her tense body relaxing before she continued.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I understand this is hard on the both of you, really," she said with a tight smile, the aging creases in her cheeks getting more pronounced. "It's been many years since my father told me the story. I held onto that key wondering if anything was ever going to come of it. And so when you appeared, I felt I had no choice but to go with my hunch. I was due to return here a few days later. Please believe if I had another option I would've taken it, but I was pressed for time and did what I felt was the best thing under the circumstances."

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

"And you would've listened? No, you would've taken one look at me, the crazy old lady, and laughed. I thought it was best that you discovered the key and wallpaper for yourself. You had to come here on your own. I was told again and again, that it wouldn't mean a thing if I asked you to come. You had to want to."

Bella tilted her head contemplatively. "What do you mean by that?"

"My father told me that if I ever found Edward, I wasn't to say anything, but just leave the key and paper where he could find them, and the rest was up to him, because that's what Elizabeth wanted."

"_Elizabeth_ wanted this? How could she have known about me when she probably died before I was born?" I was careful to not inform Mavis about Alice's vision. If what Alice saw was true, I wanted her to come up with it herself.

"I don't know when Elizabeth passed, and I wish I could tell you how she knew of you, but it's all a mystery to me too. If I knew anything that I thought would shed some light on this, I would tell you." Her voice was calm and steady as she held eye contact with me; I could tell she was being truthful.

"And you have no idea how I can find out anything about that 'journey' she was talking about?" I asked, clutching at straws.

"I can't think of anything right now, but if I hear something I'll let you know. I realize this may not mean much to you, but I feel very invested in this, and I want to help you in any way I can."

"We appreciate that, Mavis. Thank you for your help." Bella took some paper from her bag and wrote something down, handing it to Mavis. "Here's both of our numbers. Call us if you hear anything. I guess there's nothing more we can do right now." Her resigned sigh alerted me that it was time to leave. "What do we owe you?"

"Nothing," she said with a shake of her head. "It's on the house. It's the very least I can do."

We stood and I stepped aside to let Bella out, but as we approached the door, she turned and said to Mavis, "If you're the owner here, how come I've never heard of you?"

Mavis shuffled closer, tying her apron back on. "Ah yes, well I haven't worked here in many years, but I've always kept an eye on the place. The diner used to belong to my husband's family and eventually I took over when he passed."

I was puzzled. "But the lady at the library seemed to know you really well. How could she if you've never been around?"

"It's not that I've _never_ been around, I just haven't lived here full-time in many years - probably almost as long as you've been alive," she retorted with a wry grin. "I like to get around... well I did, but I'm getting old now and I needed to plant some roots. Act my age."

From the look on Bella's face she didn't appear satisfied with Mavis' answer. I was prepared to stay and allow Bella to question her further, but she didn't.

"Thanks again for your time," she said.

"Anytime," Mavis beamed.

Then Bella turned for the door and exited.

I stumbled to the car and took my seat, turning the ignition. As I drove, I let the past two hours percolate in my mind, but came up wanting. It was like trying to fit a round peg in a square hole.

Casting a glance at Bella, we caught each other's eyes briefly, a myriad of emotions on her face, but again she turned away. Disheartened by her defiance, and feeling pessimistic by what I deemed to be the resounding lack of information, I turned my attention back to road.

With Bella's apathy where I was concerned, and being so far away from my loved ones, I was beginning to feel isolated and desperate. My life was fast feeling like it was no longer mine, but left to the hands of the gods or some other fickle entity.

**...**

When I pulled up in Bella's driveway, she didn't bother to wait for me, but hopped out and went straight for the house. Her ignorance of my presence at first hurt, but it was now beginning to anger me. With her sudden refusal to talk or to even look me in the eye, I was sure there was more to it than just a change of heart, but I needed to get her to talk to me. I ran up to the porch and followed her inside. Thankfully she'd had left the door open.

I found her at the bottom of the stairs just standing there with her back to me. "What's going on Bella? Please talk to me," I begged, softly grabbing her shoulders and turning her to face me.

"There's nothing to talk about. Just drop it." She swatted the air with her hand as she spoke, then walked away, headed for the living room. I chased after her.

"Bullshit. Yesterday afternoon you were fine, and then out of nowhere everything changes, just like that." I snapped my fingers for emphasis.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Bella hissed as she stood from the couch and walked away. "I'm not about to sit down and have some Kumbaya pow-wow with you. I've told you I don't want this, and that's all there is to it."

I was becoming increasingly impatient and frustrated. Her defiance at other times was endearing, but now it was just serving to aggravate me.

I stood firm in my spot, showing her I wasn't prepared to back down. "I know you're not being honest with me, and I'm not leaving until you are. I'm not going to let you walk away from me, dammit."

"You just don't get it, do you?" Bella cried as she spun to face me, her hands flailing in the air.

"Get what? You won't talk to me."

"That's because there's nothing more to say. I don't want you." Bella no longer sounded like herself. Her voice was hoarse, her deep brown eyes appearing an almost scornful coal-black.

"That's a load of shit and you know it! I feel something for you, Bella." I cautiously moved toward her and firmly took her hand, placing it over my heart, then continued. "Something I've never felt for anyone else, and I _know _you do, too." The depth of my feelings as I stood there, holding her hand, overwhelmed me. Bella had to believe that there was something real, something larger than the both of us combined, that drew us to one another.

A lone tear pooled at the crease of her eye, slipping slowly down her cheek. She wiped it away and inhaled a shuddering breath. "You need to stop this Edward. I've made my feelings clear, so please respect them."

I placed a finger under her chin; I wanted to speak to her face, not her hair. "I respect you, but I don't respect your wishes. I'm not giving up on us."

"Nothing you say will make me change my mind." She pulled her hand away and turned around, putting her head in her hands and walking off. "What it said was true. I'm to blame. I'm not a good person." Her slightly muffled words baffled me. Defeat was evident in the slump of her posture, her unsteady gait.

I walked around and stood in front of her. She had to stop walking away from me. "What 'it' said was true? What are you talking about? Blame for what?"

Bella froze. Her eyes appeared vacant and detached. "No one, all right? Just stop. Please leave me alone. I don't want to talk about this with you."

The fragility in the way Bella stood was reminiscent of the previous day after she'd been affected by the spare room. As I sorted through the events in my mind, the correlation between the captured audio and Bella's words astounded me. Was that what she was referring to?

"Bella, are you talking about the tape?" I held her hands, hoping she could feel my concern for her through my touch. "Baby, that doesn't mean anything. She wasn't talking to you. You have to-"

"It means everything. Don't you see, Edward? It knows I'm to blame. It knows that I mess up everyone's lives; that I push people away; that I killed my own mother," she cried. With each self-flagellation, the bitterness in her voice grew until she was shouting.

"Bella, sweetheart, no, you didn't. I don't know what happened, but I you're not to blame." I pulled her into me, wrapping her in my arms, wanting to impress upon her the fact that I wasn't going to run, that I was there. I wanted her regardless of anything she thought or said.

"Don't say that. It's not true," she muttered into my chest and then pulled back. "You'll leave me, just like Embry and my mother did. I know it."

Bella's face twisted in sadness. Seeing her like that, my stomach wrenched in pain. "I can't tell you how wrong you are, Bella. What can I do to prove that to you?"

She stepped away from me, hugging her arms around her middle as though to keep herself together. "I don't know. It's not that I don't believe you. I'm sure you would stay and that you would never hurt me-"

"Never," I implored, reaching for her hands and reclaiming them. "I would never, Bella." Apart from our voices, her quiet sniffles were the only other sound in the room. I silently prayed she was reconsidering stopping us before we even started.

We stood there for a time unmoved, our hands comfortably intertwined. I rubbed my thumb over her knuckles in a comforting gesture, until her sniffles slowly abated and her breathing was once again at a steady pace.

"I don't know what to do, Edward. There's a huge part of me that wants to throw caution to the wind and just be with you. I do feel strongly for you, but I'm scared. I'm so scared that I'll drive you away."

"Shhh, Bella," I hushed, running my fingers through her soft hair. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise. Just please don't give up on us... on what we could have." I placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, thrilled that she allowed me to, yet mindful that she still hadn't answered.

"Edward?" Bella said in a meek voice after a few moments, "I need some time. Not much. But can you please give me that? I just need to be sure."

I didn't want her to need time. I wanted her to be sure now. I'd hoped she would believe and trust in me... in us enough that we could end this dance and be together. But denying her what she needed would be counterproductive. I had to give her what she wanted.

I nodded. "I'll give you all the time in the world."

I could only hope she wouldn't need it.

**...**

**Bella**

The look on Edward's face as I pulled away from him tore at my insides. He was trying to be tolerant by granting me time, but my unmeaning, albeit selfish actions were causing him anguish nonetheless.

Despite not having known Edward for very long, what time we did have was concentrated, giving us an almost elemental knowledge of each other in a way that I'd not had with Embry despite our years together.

I wanted to be with Edward, there was not a doubt in my mind. But a dream realized is a dream destroyed, and ignoring the voice of doubt telling me I was a harbinger of pain and heartache was a feat of unparalleled difficulty.

Absorbed in my thoughts I didn't hear Edward asking me a question, when he repeated himself he said, "Do you mind if I use your computer? I was thinking I could try and research what Mavis might have meant by Elizabeth's journey." Nodding that it was fine with me he sat down at the table and began working while I read a book.

The only sound in the room was the intermittent click clack of the keys as Edward used the laptop. I was immersed in the story in front of me when Edward's voice broke me from my imaginings. "Bella, why didn't you show me this?"

"Hmm. Show you what?" I put the book down and walked over to the table. On the screen before me was a document, the words throughout both familiar and unfamiliar simultaneously.

_My baby,_

_How much I love you. You must know this. _

_I do not understand why God chose to take you from me so soon, before I had the chance to cradle you in my arms, but I do not question His will. I long to be with you and your father in Heaven, but it is not my time. I must continue to do my very best to live and honor your lives. _

_The pain my heart endures is often more than I can take. The will to succumb to the dark is strong, but I know your father would want me to fight, to find the courage to live, to keep your memory alive, but I do not know how. _

"Edward, I don't know what this is, how it got there." My mind revolted, blocking my attempts to make sense of what I seeing. Logically I was the only one who could have been responsible for it, but I had no recollection of ever have written those words.

"It's okay, Bella. We'll figure this out. Just sit down and let's think through this." Edward calmed me, pulling a chair out beside him. I took a seat, my limbs feeling a little shaky. "When was the last time you used your computer?"

I thought back over the past fortnight. I couldn't recall having used it since Edward had arrived, not with everything that had since ensued. "Not since you've been here, but before that I can't remember." The more I tried to hone in on my memories, the more murky they became. "Can you not check for a saved date or something?"

"Good idea," Edward remarked sheepishly, bringing up the properties of the document. "Bella, it says this was saved April 3rd. That was a few days before you first contacted me."

"And the day after I moved in." With that realization, the fog cleared, my memories falling into place. "Edward," I exclaimed, placing my hand on his arm. "I remember that I was writing that night. It was so strange. I was struggling for inspiration one moment and then the next it was like someone - my muse - was whispering in my ear telling me what to write." As I recalled the memory to Edward, I was overcome by a revelation amplified by an unspoken truth. "Elizabeth never got to share her feelings with her loved ones. She's talking through me. Edward, she wants to be heard."

Recognition dawned on Edward's face, his eyebrow rising in question. "You may be onto something there, Bella. But perhaps it's not just you she's drawing on." Standing from his chair he talked while pacing the length of the table. "Somehow, beyond my control, I played her favorite song on the piano, even though I have no idea how to, and with the dream I had..." he paused, stopping when he was in front of me, his eyes widening, "Bella, you're right. She's trying to tell us something. But it still doesn't explain how I came to be in the attic in the first place."

I thought back to the nights I had found him, curled in on himself, sitting in the corner of the dark room. He looked desolate and broken - a figment of a man.

"She wanted you here?" I questioned. "Elizabeth needed you to be here. Near her. She felt you would be better off here than where you were?"

Edward frowned as I elaborated. "What makes you say that?"

"The way you were dressed. You looked dirty and homeless, like you couldn't take care of yourself."

Edward nodded his head in consideration. "I remember being in the attic, and seeing you. The room felt like it was spinning. I was so dizzy, confused. And I kept seeing and hearing things but I don't know what they were." He grabbed at the back of his neck. "None of this helps though. It doesn't tell us what this journey was that Mavis talked about. That's the only real clue we have to go on right now."

"You found nothing on the computer?"

He replied that he hadn't. I was at a loss of what to do. It felt like we were on the verge of really understanding things but being held back by something unseen, like someone was dangling a carrot that was just out of a reach.

"There's got to be someone we can talk to. Someone who knows the area, knows the history. Would your dad be able to help?"

I thought about this for a moment. Dad had lived in Forks his entire life, he knew most everyone in the town. But I didn't know how much of its history he knew. I wished Granddad were around, his local knowledge would've have really come in handy.

"I don't know how much of a help he could be, but I can't see why we shouldn't ask. Let me give him a call, see if we can head over there."

**…...**

**I hope that answers some questions for you, but of course it no doubt poses some new ones. **

**I'm sure many of you must have some idea of what is going on by now. If you do, I really love to hear about it. Wrong or not, I'm genuinely interested in your thoughts. **

**As always, I'm striving to get the next chapter to you as fast as I can. But quality of quantity, so thanks for your continued patience in advance.  
**

...

**For those interested in reading a silly little (horribly dirty) drabble I wrote for Miztrezboo's birthday, it's posted on my profile. Have a giggle and let me know what you think. **


	17. A New Paradigm

**I won't blather here about the length between updates. I'll leave that for the bottom, so you can all get on with reading. I do want to say a massive thank you to everyone that has helped me with this chapter, specifically Irritable Grizzzly and Kiya Raven, who without their advice and helpful comments, this chapter would've been scraped and never seen the light of day. **

**Thank you all for your patience. **

**Recap: **

"She wanted you here?" I questioned. "Elizabeth needed you to be here. Near her. She felt you would be better off here than where you were?"

Edward frowned as I elaborated. "What makes you say that?"

"The way you were dressed. You looked dirty and homeless, like you couldn't take care of yourself."

Edward nodded his head in consideration. "I remember being in the attic, and seeing you. The room felt like it was spinning. I was so dizzy, confused. And I kept seeing and hearing things but I don't know what they were." He grabbed at the back of his neck. "None of this helps though. It doesn't tell us what this journey was that Mavis talked about. That's the only real clue we have to go on right now."

"You found nothing on the computer?"

He replied that he hadn't. I was at a loss of what to do. It felt like we were on the verge of really understanding things but being held back by something unseen, like someone was dangling a carrot that was just out of a reach.

"There's got to be someone we can talk to. Someone who knows the area, knows the history. Would your dad be able to help?"

I thought about this for a moment. Dad had lived in Forks his entire life, he knew most everyone in the town. But I didn't know how much of its history he knew. I wished Granddad were around, his local knowledge would've have really come in handy.

"I don't know how much of a help he could be, but I can't see why we shouldn't ask. Let me give him a call, see if we can head over there."

**...  
**

**A New Paradigm**

**Bella**

Later that afternoon we walked up the stone path to the front door of my father's house. A small bubble of optimism threatened to bloom inside of me, but I quashed it, not wanting to get my hopes until there was a reason.

Before I landed one knock, my dad opened the door, a smile on his face. "Hey, pumpkin. Glad you could stop by."

I gave him a hug as I came inside. "Hey, Dad." I stepped back and gestured toward Edward. "This is Edward."

Charlie extended his hand and they shook twice. "Nice to meet you. Bella tells me you're here on some business. What do you do?"

Clearing his throat, Edward replied, "It's nice to meet you, too, sir. I'm a psychologist and I'm conducting a private study. Bella and I met not long after I arrived a few weeks back."

I couldn't help but snort at Edward's indirectly honest, yet diplomatic answer. He raised an eyebrow and I smiled and shrugged back. At least he was giving me the chance to explain the real reason.

As I got farther into the house, the air felt charged, as though I were feeding it with my nervous energy. I wondered if dad was able to give us some answers, if it meant he somehow played a part in this too. The possibility was too much to wrap my head around.

While Edward and I made ourselves at home in the living room, Charlie went to the kitchen and mumbled something about "fixing us some drinks." I sat back on the familiar but worn couch, while Edward walked over to the mantle, looking at the photographs that cluttered up the small space: most of them more recent, but among them were still the odd embarrassing High School photo.

Edward picked one up and laughed as he held it up for me to see. It was taken the year I had braces. I'd never liked having my photo taken while I had that hunk of metal in my mouth. I'd never protested more, or as loud.

"Nice train tracks, Bella." he said as he continued laughing.

"What's so funny in here?" Charlie asked as he came back in the room. He handed me a glass of lemonade and Edward a beer, not noticing Edward's curious look as he walked over to his favorite recliner, falling back into it with a grunt.

"Edward just found my braces photo and he's making fun of me," I said sarcastically.

Charlie recalled how much I didn't want to go to school that day – something that was very unusual for me. As I watched the comfortable repartee between Edward and my father, I relaxed into the couch, my worry easing.

"So, what's the real reason for the visit, honey?" he asked, snapping open his beer, some of it spilling over the edge.

I raised an eyebrow. "Can't a daughter just stop by and see her dad for no reason?"

"Well sure she can, but when she brings company, that usually means there's a reason."

I muttered "touché" as Edward walked over to the couch, giving me a smirk as he sat down beside me. "I, uh, we...need your help with something. You know a lot about Forks, right?"

"You mean the history?" I nodded. "Sure, I guess. What do you want to know?"

"That's just it. We're not sure... at least we won't be until we hear it." I groaned, upset by my own convoluted answer – I could hardly understand it, let alone explain it.

"That's not exactly helpful, Bella," Charlie said with a laugh. "You gotta give me something to go on."

I turned to Edward, feeling unsure and at a loss for how to handle this. I was in over my head. While Charlie and I had always enjoyed thought-provoking and mature conversation, this was above and beyond.

"Well, uh, what I'm…" I crackled my knuckles and bit my lip. The more tongue-tied I became, the more I wavered.

"What Bella is trying to say," Edward said, jumping in to help me, "and this is probably going to sound like a strange question, but has anyone ever spoken to you about going on a journey?"

"Where did you hear that?" Charlie looked pained, his face ashen as he waited for me to answer him, but my mouth was dry. I took a small sip of lemonade and found my voice.

"Someone we spoke to mentioned it." I paused to collect myself. From the corner of my eye, I caught Edward looking at me as he mouthed the words "You okay?" I nodded, relieved that I'd brought him with me.

My shoulders were tense. I took a deep breath and loosened them up. "There's been some strange things happening since I moved into Granddad's house. And that's why Edward is here." I paused, giving Charlie a moment to take everything in. "Edward's a parapsychologist. He studies the paranormal."

Charlie's forehead creased. "The paranormal? As in ghosts and hauntings?" Obviously he thought we were insane.

"Yes, sir." Edward said before briefly explaining his profession to my father, who listened intently before breaking into a chuckle.

"I'm sorry, but ghosts?" He shook his head. "Bella, you know better than that. Where are you getting this nonsense from?"

"Dad, I know it sounds crazy, and trust me, I used to think so too, but it's the truth. There's something going on in my house and Edward is helping me figure it out. That's why we're here, and we need to know if you can help."

"Sweetie, you know I'll help however I can, but I don't just believe in this stuff, and frankly, I'm surprised you do." Charlie looked at Edward, this time suspiciously.

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't believe. The evidence speaks for itself, and we need to find out if what this woman told us is true."

Charlie relaxed back into his chair, exhaling loudly. He was silent for a few moments, lost in thought. Finally he said in a forlorn voice, "Your mother used to talk about going on a journey, when she was pregnant with you."

My stomach knotted almost painfully, and everything in my vision became faded and dull, like bandages were being removed from my eyes. It turned out my dad had the answer the entire time. The panic I was feeling must have registered on my face, because suddenly I felt Edward's soft reassuring touch on my hand, and I calmed down. "M-mom?"

As I regained focus, I realized Charlie was kneeling in front of me. "Pumpkin, you know your mother had a difficult pregnancy with you. She was desperate to do anything to save you, we both were. She found out about some witchdoctors, or whatever they call themselves, down at La Push, and became obsessed with them; she believed they could save you both. We argued that she was risking your life by not going to her specialists and believing in some mystical nonsense over common sense and science, but I couldn't change her mind. She was stubborn and nothing I said made a bit of difference."

Charlie's eyes glazed a little as he spoke; talking about mom wasn't something we did regularly.

With a raspy cough, he continued, "They told her that she needed to drink some...some herbal mix or something." He paused, and looked at me with a sad smile. "She never said what was in it, but she came home talking about how she knew you were going to be safe because of it; that her journey promised her you would live."

Edward smiled sympathetically and tightened his grip on my hand. I took a few moments to wrap my mind around what Charlie said. "So mom said she went on some spiritual journey because of the herbal tea?" I kept nodding, hoping the motion would somehow make this concept sink in. It didn't help.

"That's what she believed. She was convinced it was the only way you'd survive." Charlie cupped his hands over his face, rubbing furiously. "I was so angry with her. We fought all the time that she was blindly risking your life and not paying attention to what the doctors told her, but she was adamant she was doing the right thing."

"Charlie, do you have any idea who gave it to her?" Edward asked.

"No, but what does that matter?" Charlie shot him an angry glare. From the gruff tone of his voice, I could tell he thought Edward was prying.

When Charlie opened his mouth to continue, I jumped in. "Maybe it doesn't, but-" I stopped, unsure of whether to continue. My father had a parochial, black and white perspective on life; there was no such thing as middle ground. I knew that if I told him about the disembodied voices, and how I first saw Edward in the attic, he wouldn't believe it, but I wasn't sure that mattered.

"But?" The word hung in the air.

"I know you don't believe in this stuff Dad, but it's more than just the sort of things you see in movies. I feel... connected to it, like it's trying to communicate with me. With Edward, too." I paused to make sure Charlie was listening, absorbing what I was saying. When he signaled for me to continue, I released a staggered breath, feeling my muscles uncoil with it. "I've heard my name being called, and it's been using me as some sort of… conduit to speak. It's trying to share something." I refrained from referring to it as "Elizabeth" directly, knowing he didn't need that detail to make him think I was completely nuts, if he didn't already.

"Bella, you know I trust your judgment on pretty much everything, but this is just crazy." Charlie stood up, his knees cracking, and walked toward the kitchen, muttering something under his breath. When he returned, he snapped open another can of beer and faced Edward. "Look, you seem like a nice enough guy, but you've got my girl convinced of this garbage. You come out here and disrupt her life just as she's getting things back on track." Pointing at our still clasped hands he said, "You weasel your way into her life somehow when she's vulnerable and alone, convincing her of all this-"

"Dad, stop! Edward hasn't done anything wrong. He's here because I asked him to be." I could feel Edward loosening his grip, but I held on, wanting to show him I was trying, that I needed him and his support. I quickly looked to him and he smiled and moved his thumb softly across my hand. "Things were happening before he got here."

I could see the concern in his eyes. "Bella, sweetie, it's just that you've always been such a trusting person." He turned his head to the side, scratching his neck. "I just don't want to see you taken advantage of."

"I get that, Dad. I really do, and I know you're worried, but Edward is a good man. I'm aware that my knowing him only a few weeks worries you, but I feel… safe with him."

"I'm your father. It's my job to keep you safe," he said, obviously determined to protect his little girl.

"I understand, but this is bigger than all of us. Somehow everything is connected: Me, Edward, Mom, and you."

"I just don't know. This is all so far beyond anything I've ever heard, and I just don't know what to make of it."

I couldn't bear to hear the conflict in my dad's voice, but now more than ever I needed him to let me stand on my own and do what I thought was best. "Just trust me, Dad."

He placed a kiss on my head, whispering that he loved me and that he did trust me, before pulling away. "Edward, I can't say I'm happy about this situation, but my Bella is an adult and her own woman, and I trust her to know what's right for her. But if I hear you've so much as put one foot wrong, you'll be hearing from me, you got it?" Not waiting for a response from a clearly nervous Edward, he said," Now, what's the next step in this investigation you're doing?"

Charlie looked between us before turning back to Edward who swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Uh, well, sir, I think we should go back to La Push; take this new information to the guys out there, and see what we can learn. Hopefully they'll be more helpful than they were last time."

He went back to his recliner and sat on the edge, looking uncomfortable, but resigned to the situation. "They were unhelpful? How so?"

Edward explained his encounter with them and dad sighed loudly, rubbing his hands across his thighs. "I don't handle that area, but I've heard enough in my time to know they're a rowdy bunch, taking the law into their own hands." He shifted his eyes as they clouded over. "I want you to tell me if they pull any tricks. And I'd prefer it if you stayed behind, Bella."

That wasn't going to happen. I'd been a doormat too many times in the past; I wasn't going to let an important opportunity to stand up for myself pass me by. "I'm going with Edward. If they actually do tell the truth, I need to be there. It's important."

"You've always been too stubborn for your own good." We shared a knowing smile; it was true, I took after dad in that sense.

Edward and I stayed a while longer, talking with Charlie about menial subjects, and diffusing the tension. By the time we were ready to leave, it was late, and La Push would have to wait until the next day.

We stood on the stoop, and Charlie pulled me into a hug. "Love you, baby girl."

"Love you, too, Dad," I whispered into his neck.

Charlie turned to Edward. "I'm still very uneasy about all this," he said waving his hand. "But I trust Bella, and if she says this is what she needs to do, then I'm going to let her do it. Just you look after her, you hear?"

"Yes sir. I can assure you she's very important to me and I'll look out for her."

Dad nodded once, the same stern look on his face. "Just keep your promise and you'll have nothing to worry about," he said, never missing an opportunity to play the heavy. I smirked and took hold of Edward's hand as we walked back to the car.

**…**

Edward stayed for dinner. We discussed the revelation of my mother's likely involvement, tossing ideas back and forth about how she could've played a role, but no matter how many possible ideas we came up with, nothing seemed to fit.

While my only knowledge of my mother came from the stories my dad told me, I still felt as though I knew her well enough to discern for myself the kind of person she really was, and nothing pointed toward her being deceitful, consciously or otherwise. I could only hope that tomorrow I would learn what I needed to know.

After dinner we moved into the living room. We sat on the couch awkwardly until finally we busted up laughing. "This is silly," Edward said, "we're both adults, and yet we're acting like two teenagers on a first date."

Snorting indelicately, I agreed, and moved in closer, still feeling a tiny bit of hesitation, but ultimately not enough to prevent me from resting my head on his shoulder. His calming exhale relaxed me as well, letting me know I'd made the right decision.

We stayed resting against one another for a while, before I could feel Edward's muscles stretching and back arching. "I should probably-"

"Stay with me tonight?" He looked momentarily excited, but then hesitant.

"Bella, are you sure? I don't want to rush you."

"You're not. Please stay. I'm not ready for sex, but I'd like to sleep beside you tonight." I needed to feel his comfort and familiarity; to be close to him.

With a genuinely pleased smile, he agreed. We both stood and made our way to the stairs, I reached behind me and took Edward's hand, once again reveling in the way it felt when our fingers were intertwined.

I left him beside my bed to get ready in the bathroom, and when I returned, I nearly froze. He was dressed down to his boxers and a t-shirt. His bare legs were pale, but athletic, and his t-shirt hugged his arms and upper chest. He seemed so relaxed and sure of his place. The fact that he acted that way in my room only solidified how right it felt, and how I knew I shouldn't fight what was between us.

He grinned and held out his hand to me, pulling me closer and placing a light kiss on my temple. "Thank you for asking me to stay, sweetheart."

"I want you here; thank you for staying."

I pulled back the covers and climbed in, moving across to the other side. The bed dipped as Edward joined me, a feeling I hoped to get used to as he became a more permanent fixture in my life.

He laid his arm out across the pillows and pulled me closer, nuzzling my hair. "Goodnight, Bella."

"Goodnight, Edward." I went to sleep with a smile on my face.

**...**

I woke with an arm draped over me and was momentarily confused, before the previous night dawned in my memory and I stretched happily, hearing a breathy moan come from the man beside me. "Morning," I said, rolling over to look at him.

"Is it? Damn, I was hoping we could stay here a little longer, I liked the way you felt in my arms."

So did I, but I was too full of energy to stay in bed any longer. I wanted my answers, and I was impatient and eager to get them.

We scrambled out of bed, got dressed, and headed down for breakfast.

Over hot chocolate and cereal we discussed how we would approach the situation.

"We should head out as soon as we finish up here," Edward said, then shoveled a spoon of milky cornflakes into his mouth.

"First we'll stop by the B&B to get you a change of clothes." Then, feeling a surge of anxiety, I asked, "What if Jared still won't tell us anything? What if he turns us away again?"

"We refuse to leave. Bella, with the information we have this time, there's no way they can carry on with their bold-faced lie. They know something, and they're going to tell us what that is."

I knew that what Edward was saying was right, but I still felt unsure. The excitement from last night had manifested itself into a broiling torrent of uncertainty. Edward smiled at me, easing my fears somewhat and reassuring me with this presence. He stood and put our bowls in the sink and turned back to me. "You ready to go?"

With a cleansing exhale, I pushed from my chair and walked with him out to the car.

During the drive my left hand didn't move from its place inside Edward's. He somehow managed to skilfully drive the distance, while keeping my fears at bay with gentle caresses.

The green blanket of Douglas fir that lined the road soon gave way to the open space of La Push, the small cabin-like homes gathered in small clusters around the open reservation. The crunch of stone under the tires was the only sound as the car slowly pulled up in front of the closest building: a red, weather-beaten clapboard house. Edward shut off the engine and turned to me, unbuckling my seatbelt. "You ready?"

Just as I was about to nod, the door opened out onto the veranda revealing Jared, a stern, almost angry, look on his face.

I held my breath, feeling my blood stampede through my veins, adrenaline chasing after it; my body was on alert.

"Don't let him stop you from getting your answers, Bella," Edward spoke calmly, his hand placed over my arm. "You – _we_ - need to do this," he affirmed, steeling me to step out of the car. I got out, and shut the door as Jared stared at us.

"I thought I made it clear that you weren't welcome here," he said, leaving no room for ambiguity.

Seeing Jared standing there with his self-righteous front, his arms crossed over his chest, I felt my own anger flare and I moved around the car to stand beside Edward. When I reached him, he held out his hand to me, but I didn't take it because I knew I had to do this on my own.

I took another step forward and looked up into Jared's face, his menacing eyes glaring at me, testing. Before I could let him wear me down, I blurted, "I know my mother came here. I know about her journey."

**...**

**I feel like I'm the bad guy here, but I need to let you all know that Muse is going on a brief hiatus. I've already kept this chapter underwraps far longer than I'd ever anticipated, and that just adds salt to my wound. Just please know that my reasons are for the better of the story ultimately. While it's not writer's block per se that I'm contending with, I am struggling to find the heart of the story emotionally. And for what this story means to me, I don't want to rush the ending and give it one that it doesn't deserve. **

**I will strive to end this hiatus as quickly as I can without it being detrimental to the work, and I hope you all hang around to see the completion. If not, well thank you for reading this far. **

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Feel free to harass and harangue me about the future of Muse on twitter: hidemyhead. **

**I look forward to your reviews. **


	18. The Man Behind The Curtain

**I want to thank you all for your patience while I've been away. I do understand how annoying it can be to have a story go on hiatus, particularly when it reaches a point where answers are forthcoming. **

**From here on out, it's unlikely that my chapters will be officially beta'd, but my pre readers will continue, so I hope I can bring you a good quality of story that will leave you intrigued to the end. Unfortunately, I put too much pressure on myself to bring my A-game, and that has left me disillusioned with my writing at times, hence the lengthy wait for this chapter. I hope to not have that happen again. I'm back to writing purely for the fun of it. **

**Many thanks to my wonderful prereaders Withany and 1BraveLamb, who have graciously dealt with my many tormented rants, and stopped my hovering "delete all" finger. Much love to you both ladies.**

**...**

**In the previous chapter: **

**Bella introduced Edward to Charlie, and during the visit learned that her mother spoke of a "journey" she went on when pregnant with her; that she made visits out to the reservation at La Push, where she was given herbal tea and had a ritual performed on her.**

**Chapter recap: **

The green blanket of Douglas fir that lined the road soon gave way to the open space of La Push, the small cabin-like homes gathered in small clusters around the open reservation. The crunch of stone under the tires was the only sound as the car slowly pulled up in front of the closest building: a red, weather-beaten clapboard house. Edward shut off the engine and turned to me, unbuckling my seatbelt. "You ready?"

Just as I was about to nod, the door opened out onto the veranda revealing Jared, a stern, almost angry, look on his face.

I held my breath, feeling my blood stampede through my veins, adrenaline chasing after it; my body was on alert.

"Don't let him stop you from getting your answers, Bella," Edward spoke calmly, his hand placed over my arm. "You – we - need to do this," he affirmed, steeling me to step out of the car. I got out, and shut the door as Jared stared at us.

"I thought I made it clear that you weren't welcome here," he said, leaving no room for ambiguity.

Seeing Jared standing there with his self-righteous front, his arms crossed over his chest, I felt my own anger flare and I moved around the car to stand beside Edward. When I reached him, he held out his hand to me, but I didn't take it because I knew I had to do this on my own.

I took another step forward and looked up into Jared's face, his menacing eyes glaring at me, testing. Before I could let him wear me down, I blurted, "I know my mother came here. I know about her journey."

**The Man Behind The Curtain**

**Bella**

Stones crunched loudly underfoot as I moved from one foot to the other, impatiently, waiting for Jared to answer me. Everything seemed to slow down but my erratic heartbeat slamming against my ribcage.

Jared glared at me, his hands clenched into fists at his sides and his forehead looking like someone had taken a hammer and chisel to it. His chest heaved with deep, irregular breaths.

My eyes darted in every other direction but at Jared. The hate-filled glare he was giving me made me want to run. I wrapped my arms tightly around my stomach needing to feel a sense of comfort.

I slowly looked in Jared's direction when I heard a noise that sounded like a muffled curse, and then he abruptly turned and flung open the door. The sound of it hitting the wall made me jump.

"I'm going for a walk," he yelled to whoever was inside, and then slammed the door shut again and stepped off the porch. He took a step toward me, and the hairs on my neck and arms stood on end.

His jaw twitched and his nostrils flared, before he walked off with long, determined strides toward the cedars and hemlocks that divided the reservation from the forest.

Unable to breath, a sharp pain speared my middle and my insides twisted painfully. I stumbled forward, my legs giving way as Edward caught me, holding onto my arm and steadying me.

"Thank you," I managed, my voice weak and unclear.

"You're welcome," Edward replied, raising my chin so that I met his eyes. "Bella, I don't think this is a good idea; you can hardly stand."

Panic seized me at the thought of leaving before I had my answers, and I swallowed thickly. "No, I'm not leaving. I came here for answers and I'm going to get them. I just... I need to not let him intimidate me."

I briefly closed my eyes and tried to center myself; I rolled my shoulders back and forth, feeling less tense with each circuit. Looking up at Edward, I said, "I'm going after him. You don't have to come if you don't want to, but I'd prefer if you did."

"Bella, we can't just chase him through the forest. Think about it. We don't even know this person. What if he's dangerous? What if we get lost? There's got to be a better way to go about this." Edward said, gesticulating with his hands nervously.

Jared had been gone long enough for him to be hard to find, and I was getting impatient. My heartbeat began picking up again, this time thumping in my ears as my anger increased. "Then by all means, Edward, don't stay; but I'm going, with or without you."

I turned and began stalking toward the forest, listening keenly for a second set of footsteps, but heard nothing. My shoulders slumped as defeat crawled aggressively over my shoulders like poison ivy on a rock. Edward wasn't coming.

The light from the open reservation was swallowed by the creeping dark of the forest, and I couldn't see where I was going. The path was uneven; small potholes and rocks scattered about. I held my breath, too afraid to breathe in the eerie silence.

I slowed my pace, increasingly unsure about whether doing this alone was a good idea after all. My cheeks began to flame, angry that he stayed behind, when a crunching sound from behind me made my skin break out in goosebumps. I turned and found Edward about twenty steps behind, his palms facing outward in a "it's just me" gesture.

"Shit, you scared me Edward." I exhaled heavily. "You could've called out or something. What are you doing here?"

He approached me slowly, carefully negotiating the same divots and roots that I had. "I thought you'd turn around and come back, wait for him there. When you didn't, I came after you." With a final step he was within arm's reach, his eyes softening as they roamed my face. He gently took my right hand and said, "I was wrong to stay behind. I shouldn't have." His fingers smoothed across my knuckles creating a warm fluttering sensation in my belly. "We do this together."

He stepped beside me and threaded his fingers with mine. I flinched away, not wanting his touch. "If we go together, then you should've come with me when I left, instead you stayed. Who does that?" I said loudly.

Edward hung his head, clearly affected by the abrupt tone of my voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, Bella. I honestly thought you'd come back." He looked up at me and moved his hand around to show the location we were in, the darkness that surrounded us.

"Yeah, well you were wrong," I muttered, my voice quieter, less irritated than before. "Like I said: I need these answers, Edward. If you want to help me as much as you say you do, if you feel anything for me at all, you wouldn't have done that. You -"

"That's not fair, Bella," Edward interrupted, stepping forward and taking both my hands. "I made a mistake in staying behind. One that doesn't reflect how I feel about you." His eyes bore deep into my own as though he could read my thoughts and feelings. I was under his spotlight and my skin flushed under his gaze. The world seemed to stop when he looked at me like that: the hum of life ceased; the birds didn't chirp, and the leaves made no sound as they danced above our heads - we were the only two people left.

It was scary and invigorating.

My pulse thrummed reacting to the way Edward looked at me: his eyes never leaving mine. Such a heated gaze would normally have made me nervous, but with Edward, I was excited and... aroused. I couldn't breathe and my limbs were heavy, pulling me toward the ground, my body coiled tight from the tension brewing between us.

He moved closer, licking his lips. His face was unreadable, locked in stone. I was certain I could hear his heart beating off-time with mine. I wasn't ready for this. I wanted to, I did, but I wasn't ready. Everything suddenly felt like it was closing in around me. It was darker, quieter, and more claustrophobic than before.

His face was right there, leaning down toward me, eyes unblinking. My chest burned, and my mouth was dry. I needed space between us. I stepped back as his arms reached out clasping my shoulders.

"Bella, hey, it's okay," Edward said, his voice soft as though speaking to a frightened child. His fingers woven in my hair, running through the soft tangles.

"Oh, Edward. I - I just..." I looked away, unable to bear the look of certain anguish I was sure he reflected. Speaking into my shoulder, I mumbled, "I want to, but I can't." My voice was shaky, wavering with the beginning of tears. I breathed through my nose to stem the onset.

"I know, sweetheart. I wish you could too," he said with a small smile. "I was just going to do this," he said, stepping forward and placing a soft, reverent kiss to my forehead.

My cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and all I could manage was an, "Oh", as I ducked my head once more avoiding his smirk.

Long shadows cast patterns on the majestic trees not too far in the distance; light flooded the path, highlighting the leaves. It filtering down, creating a kaleidoscope of twinkling colours, shining on the wildflowers that grew around the large rocks adjacent to the path.

"Come on," I said, taking Edward's hand. "Looks like there's a clearing up ahead. Jared has to be there." I felt certain of it and quickened my pace, tugging Edward along behind me.

The dirt path ended abruptly becoming one of grass not quite flattened enough to reveal a newly-forged track. As we pushed through the stalks they swished around our legs, the movement throwing up the rich perfume of recent rain.

Two tall cedars stood like royal guards over the space beyond them: foreboding and intimidating.

I stopped and looked at Edward, his jaw clenched, eyes small and unsure.

"Are you sure about this, Bella? I'll be with you either way; I need you to know that."

"I know, Edward, and yes, I'm sure."

**...**

We walked into a large clearing, surrounded on all sides by forest pushing back into a blackness that seemed to go on eternally. The sun, unfettered by clouds, pored into the clearing, the glare so strong I sheltered my vision with my hand.

I looked around the open space, searching out my target, but couldn't see Jared anywhere. My shoulders slumped and the breath left my body, my lungs parched, desperate for more. _Where was he? Had he gone back?_

Anger that Jared was nowhere to be found rose up defiantly within me, only to be lanced by searing doubt: maybe Edward was right. Maybe Jared was dangerous and he was just playing me like a fiddle the whole time. Tears gathered in eyes and my lip quivered knowing I'd failed yet again.

"Bella," Edward's voice was quiet, almost nervous. "He's here." The breath seized in my throat and I spluttered on a sniffle as I wiped my eyes with the back of hand. Edward reached up and cupped my face, the space between his brow knotting as he hushed me. "He's behind me, over there," he said, and ran his hands through my hair once again, calming me down and bringing me back to the moment.

I peered over Edward's shoulder and saw Jared standing by a small fire pit, toeing the blackened remains of timber and branches. He looked back at me, but instead of the earlier malice that stained his face, he looked... apprehensive.

Before I could let any further doubt cripple me, I stepped around Edward and moved toward Jared. My stomach churned with nerves; each step seemed heavy and muffled in my ears.

When I reached Jared, the apprehensiveness had been replaced with the Jared I had come to know in recent weeks: evasive, indignant, and arrogant.

"You're fooling yourself if you think I'm here to help you. I don't know where you heard that bullshit about your mom coming out here, but it's just that… bullshit."

I recoiled. I'd known to anticipate him being uncooperative, but that he hadn't sent me away like so many other times left me with hope that he'd at least begrudgingly give me what I sought.

I squared my shoulders, and tried to keep my face neutral, not wanting to give him more of an upper hand than he already had. "So it's bullshit when your own father, the chief of police, tells you so, is it?"

Jared looked at me with disdain, his eyes squinted angrily. "You know, I don't have to do this," he spat. "Why I even thought…"

"Tell me. Why did you then?" I demanded, stepping forward and surprising myself by grabbing his arm.

He glared at me, his nostrils flaring as he swung his arm out from under my grip. I felt a rush of movement as Edward stepped forward from behind me, placing his arm around my back and pulling me into his side.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Edward yelled.

"What am I doing?" Jared snarled. "You both come out here, to my land, and demand that I help you. What for? Why the fuck should I do anything for you?"

The unadulterated anger in his voice made me prickle with unease and the clarity of the sun was doing nothing to quell the dark thoughts swimming in my mind. But I had had enough. I went to move but felt Edward tense around me, not comfortable with letting me go. I adjusted where I stood so it didn't appear I was leaning on him in a dependant way and cleared my throat.

"Because you've tormented my mind for weeks since you plied me with questions about my house. I want answers, Jared… I need them," I plead, hoping there was a grain of humanity inside of him that wasn't beyond reach.

Jared turned away, pacing back and forth, then walked toward a tree that stood a few yards from the fire pit and curling his fist up, he punched it, repeatedly before bringing his scratched and bloodied hand to his hair, pulling at it violently. "FUCK," he screamed, his voice echoing around the field.

**...**

Frozen to the spot, my arms and legs were locked. Everything in me told me to run - fast, to get out of there and away from this loose canon, but I just couldn't. He had what I needed and his outburst confirmed that.

"Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone? The truth isn't going to help you. It won't change anything," Jared spat through clenched teeth. "Your mom should never have come here. Blame her, not us."

"Blame? Who said anything about laying blame, Jared? I just want to know what happened. Why she came out here? That's all."

He continued pacing, and wiped his cut knuckles on his jeans. I stayed out of his way and allowed him time to calm down, not wanting to aggravate him more than I already had. His body visibly calmed after a few moments, he rolled his neck, and stretched his hands, grimacing at the sting it likely caused. He then looked in my direction, his large, distressed eyes assessing me. "How much do you know?"

"I know that she came out here because she was under the impression she could be helped. I was a high-risk pregnancy. Dad said after western medicine did all it could, mom began trying different alternative therapies."

"Alternative, huh? That'd be one way of putting it."

I shook my head, confused. "What do you mean?"

"If we're gonna do this, you'll want to sit down." Jared walked ahead to a dirt patch circled by porous grey-blue rocks caked with moss. Weeds sprouted from around the bottom, and felled logs lay scattered about, some seemingly deliberately placed, others not.

Jared fingered a twig he'd picked up walking over to the log, breaking it into smaller pieces, the apprehensive look back on his face. His skin had taken on a sallow tone, small beads of sweat on his forehead despite the cool weather.

"Like you said, your mom came out here wanting the tribes' help, except Shamans don't usually help anyone from outside the tribe, but from what I was told, she was pretty insistent, and I guess they couldn't turn her away." Jared shrugged and looked down at the ground, shuffling a small pile of dirt together with his shoes.

His mercurial moods were shocking; from raging, tyrannical anger to sullen nervousness in mere moments, I had no idea what I'd be facing next.

When he continued he was practically mumbling. If it weren't for the lack of noise, I'd have asked him to speak up.

"Because of that they were wary of performing indigenous rituals on her and went for a more simple one using drums to call the Spirit Guides. They also gave her a herbal tea drink to help with any symptoms she had."

With the increasing popularity of alternative medicine, I had a reasonable understanding of what it encompassed. Being given tea didn't seem that out of place, but I wasn't expecting Jared to mention drums.

Images of tattooed men, chanting in an unrecognizable language and banging on drums hypnotized me and I didn't hear my name being called until Edward took my hand, and knelt in front of me.

"I'm sorry," I said, clearing my head of thoughts. Turning my attention back to Jared, I asked, "What do the drums do?"

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. A plume of smoke rose from the cherry as he inhaled, dancing in the air before dissipating. "It's like meditation," he coughed. "The Spirit Guides are called on to give answers, direction, healing – whatever's needed."

"Okay, so they used their drums and then what? I don't get where this is all going."

"Sometimes when the Spirit Guides are called, people claim they have an otherworldly experience. The whole thing is otherworldly in truth, but your mom was different. She… she made some claims about seeing a bunch of stuff that just wasn't possible."

He stopped to take another drag from his cigarette, seeming relaxed and almost nonchalant, disregarding my quirked eyebrow and the circular motion I was making with my hand prompting him to continue.

Jared's mood had been so hard to predict, I was hesitant to press him lest he become petulant and refuse to answer. I didn't consider that to be an implausible possibility, but after a few moments of heavy, bated silence he finally continued.

"She said she saw her father-in-law's house, but not when he was living in it; before then, and that someone else was living there: a woman, alone at first. She said she saw everything in perfect detail, like she was right there. I suppose she thought she was. After the ritual, she told everyone what she saw and that she knew you'd be okay, but she didn't say how." He dropped his spent cigarette to the ground, squashing it with his boot.

Everything around me faded into nothing as the news of what Jared said my mother saw settled in my mind. I turned to Edward just as he did the same and we both said: "Elizabeth."

It had to be her. My mother had seen Elizabeth Masen.

I was numb. My body heavy, but limp. The news was not what I had expected. I tried to sort through it, shuffling the words around in my head but no matter how many ways I thought it through, it didn't make sense.

Jared looked at us strangely; his eyebrows bunched together, almost joined in a straight line across his forehead. "Who's Elizabeth?"

I couldn't ask the questions I wanted to; my mouth seemingly disconnected from my brain, but Edward appeared to be coping with the revelation a bit better than me ignoring Jared's question and instead asking, "Alone at first, what do you mean by that?"

Jared rearranged himself on the log looking surprised. "Ah, I think the woman was pregnant, but then not. I don't know," he said, his voice muffled as he lowered his face to his hands and rubbed his eyes.

"You know, I don't know what this means for you, or who this Elizabeth is, but I don't know any more."

I didn't believe him. For all the evasiveness and anger he'd shown, it didn't make sense given the small, albeit significant, piece of information he'd revealed.

"So that's it, that's all you know?" I demanded, having regained my faculties. The doubt in my voice obvious judging by Jared's reaction: his shoulders rolled inward, the muscles in his forearms flexed as he clenched and released his hands.

"I've told you everything I know."

"If that's true then why do you look so defensive?" I was beginning to feel game, understanding that Jared wasn't the wolf in sheep's clothing I had first taken him for. He wanted to make me think that, but his smokescreen was nothing more than a ruse designed to prevent me from digging into the truth.

I walked over to him, and stood over his hulking body and stared him straight in the eyes, wanting him to understand that I wasn't ready to leave yet and nor was he. His nostrils flared and he pursed his lips as he locked his gaze with mine.

"Why would this story even be passed down through your tribe if there wasn't more to it?"

"Isabella, stop. I've told you all there is to know. Now get out of my way, we're done here." He got up and stepped around me, beginning to walk towards the path back into the forest. Dangerous he wasn't, but leaving, he definitely was.

Panicked, and knowing if he left there was no way this would be resolved, I ran after him, but was slowed down by the hip-height stems of grass he'd trekked through to get back to the path.

Edward chased after me, yelling for me to stop, but I ignored him and continued running. Fighting to speak through my exertion, I called out, "Why, over twenty-eight years later, Jared? What are you not telling me?"

He stopped; not moving for what seemed like hours as I finally caught up to him, and then turned around almost hitting me with his arms swinging out from his side. I stepped back but not far enough to not feel the evidence of his ire when he yelled, "Your mother was a stupid, selfish woman, and it was not the tribes' fault. She should've listened when they told her to go back to her regular doctor instead of always coming out here, but no, she was so sure, so blindsided by her bullshit vision."

As Jared berated the actions of my mom, a familiar feeling of nauseous dread crept through me, one I'd always related to my own guilt over her death. But there was something in what he said that made the dread more pronounced than usual.

Edward stood behind me and pulled my body back into his, holding me tight as the dread began to work its way through me from my shoulders to my legs, leaving me boneless and hanging onto him to keep standing.

"How… how many times did she come out here," I barely managed, my voice meek and quivering.

"I don't fucking know, but more than she should have."

I heard Edward talking but couldn't make sense of the exact words as I shut down, hearing only Jared's voice screaming about the negligence of my mother over and over again. My body seized, and I gripped onto Edward, hearing him grimace when my nails dug into his arm.

Fear of accepting the truth in Jared's words turned into shame and defeat as my legs finally gave way from under me, collapsing like a house of cards burdened by a weight it couldn't withstand.

I wasn't enough.

My mother didn't want me enough to make sure she took care of herself. She threw everything away, hedging her bets on some vision she saw instead trusting in doctors to take care of her.

"She… she didn't… why…." I blubbered, trying to find my footing as Edward crouched down in front of me, his face marked with concern. He pulled me into him, running his hand in soothing circles on my back but no matter how much he tried to calm me, the voices inside my head wouldn't stop.

I wanted them out, gone. I pushed up on Edward's shoulders, struggling to stand but finally finding my footing. When I looked up, Jared was still standing there and I realized I'd forgotten about him, but seeing him the despair I was buried under all of a sudden twisted painfully, turning into unbridled fury.

"Why didn't they force her? Someone should've dragged her to her doctor," I screamed, my throat burning from the volume.

"I was just a baby… fuck, not even that. I was defenceless, a fetus." I pulled at my hair, yanking it hard, wanting to take the anger out on something. I was shaking, almost convulsing as the words spilled from me, my body aching as repressed emotions surfaced, forcing their way out of me. I could feel the energy inside desperate for release, taught, stretched to its limit until it couldn't be contained anymore. I charged toward Jared and shoved him, my palms hitting him square in the chest as I screamed, "Who was there for me? No one. Not one fucking person."

I could hear someone's voice and their hands grappling with me, trying to stop me from lashing out, but I was too enraged, too lost in the devastation and black void of despair, finally learning what I'd always felt: I wasn't enough.

The target of my anger continued allowing me to hit them, not moving away, not flinching, just taking it: every shove, every curse, every bit of abuse I heaped on him.

As I hit him once more, my arms beginning to feel heavy and sluggish, I was shoved backwards by the invasion of something pushing in between, into my path of effusive hatred.

"Bella, Bella, sweetheart. Ssssh, it's okay, it's okay." The repeated calm words spoken in a gentle, hushed tone.

"Stop it, no, get away from me." I wrestled against his hold, but his arms were wrapped around me so completely, so tightly that there was no escape.

Edward continued to whisper soothing words to me, but I could hear Jared saying that this was what he feared.

"This is exactly what I was trying to prevent, but she just wouldn't stop and I lost it." I could hear him speaking through his teeth, as I rested my thumping head against Edward's chest.

Everything hurt, my chest feeling ripped open and exposed. I was suddenly exhausted. Tears welled in my eyes, spilling down my cheeks onto Edward's shirt. I snivelled, and let out a sob.

"I think you should go. You've said more than enough." I heard Edward say.

"Look, it wasn't my fault. I told her to stop…" The pitch of his voice rose with the defiance of his words.

"Jared, I said that's enough. I'm sure she'll understand in time, but right now you're all she has to blame." His fingers continued their passage across my back, and I closed my eyes, concentrating on how it felt, losing myself in imagining the shapes he was drawing, as their heated discussion faded into the background.

**...**

My eyes fluttered open as Edward was lulling me out of unconsciousness. He held me in his arms, my head resting against his shoulder.

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You've been out for a while." He struggled to speak, and I noticed he was walking.

"Where are we?" I asked, coughing at the pain I felt trying to speak.

"We're near the car. Just a little further," he managed between pants. His face showing the strain of carrying me from the clearing.

"I'm okay to walk, Edward," I said, nodding when he looked at me questioningly.

He placed me on my feet and I held onto him briefly while my shaky limbs found the strength to walk. The reservation was becoming visible towards the end of the track, the sun from earlier in the day replaced in favour of a dismal gray sky that reflected my dour mood.

My mind began to recall broken, warped images that I couldn't make complete sense of. Blurred memories of me screaming, Edward holding me tightly, shuffled around in my head like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that I couldn't fit together.

When we reached the car, Edward opened the door for me, ushering me inside and then moving around to the driver's side. As he started the car and put it into reverse, the curtains inside the house in front of us moved and Jared looked out, his expressionless face locked with mine, not looking away as we left the reservation and headed home.

**...**

**Have I left you with some answers, more questions, a happy face, a quirked eyebrow? Let me know. **

**I'm going to endeavor to provide a snippet of the next chapter with reviews.**

**Thank you all once again for your patience. **


	19. The Girl Who Wasn't There

**Well hello there gentle viewers, it's been a while. My sincerest of apologies to those of you with the patience to continue reading this story. I ran into a number of difficulties getting this to you timely manner. Broken computers, new jobs with long commutes, and lack of motivation oh my...**

**This chapter wouldn't have been possible (and I truly mean that) without my sister from another mister One Brave Lamb. Sarah, you're the rama lama lama to my ka dinga da dinga dong. And Wythanie, thank you for the time you put into reading all the little excerpts I send you asking constantly "is this okay?" You put up with my need for reassurance like no other. You have the patience of a saint.**

**And lastly, Rob Zombie. Can't say I know the dude, but without his seriously kick-ass music, this chapter would be a dead fish. **

**At the end of chapter eighteen:**

My eyes fluttered open as Edward was lulling me out of unconsciousness. He held me in his arms, my head resting against his shoulder.

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You've been out for a while." He struggled to speak, and I noticed he was walking.

"Where are we?" I asked, coughing at the pain I felt trying to speak.

"We're near the car. Just a little further," he managed between pants. His face showing the strain of carrying me from the clearing.

"I'm okay to walk, Edward," I said, nodding when he looked at me questioningly.

He placed me on my feet and I held onto him briefly while my shaky limbs found the strength to walk. The reservation was becoming visible towards the end of the track, the sun from earlier in the day replaced in favour of a dismal gray sky that reflected my dour mood.

My mind began to recall broken, warped images that I couldn't make complete sense of. Blurred memories of me screaming, Edward holding me tightly, shuffled around in my head like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that I couldn't fit together.

When we reached the car, Edward opened the door for me, ushering me inside and then moving around to the driver's side. As he started the car and put it into reverse, the curtains inside the house in front of us moved and Jared looked out, his expressionless face locked with mine, not looking away as we left the reservation and headed home.

**...**

**The Girl Who Wasn't There**

**Edward**

What should have been a short drive felt interminably long, with nothing to break the silence but the husky tones of the singer on the radio. Despite continued efforts to rouse her attention, Bella just stared out the window the entire drive, her eyes empty and her body slack. At one point, I took her hand in mine, hoping to coax some response from her, but she was so lifeless, her hand slipped from mine, falling by her side.

The afternoon played on loop through my mind, Jared having left an indelible imprint. It was pointless laying blame and pointing fingers, but it was all I had as I waged an internal battle for letting Bella confront Jared. With the result of that lack of foresight sitting next to me, I slammed my hand against the steering wheel, cursing at both the pain that shot up my arm, and myself, and Jared, and everything that made this day and all those before it so inexplicably fucked up.

We reached the house just as dusk set in. I pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. As I unlocked Bella's seat belt, she blinked quickly and repeatedly as though she was seeing a moving pictures book in her mind. She looked at the house and then turned back to me, seeming to notice the change in surroundings.

After a deep inhale she quietly said, "I guess I spaced out. I don't even remember the drive." Despite her cognizance, Bella was barely awake. Her face was darkened by purple bruises beneath her sunken eyes, and her skin looked washed out, marred by splotchy tear-streaked tracks.

I caressed my thumb over her cheek, smoothing away the hurt and pain there. She smiled softly but it didn't reach her eyes, instead her chin trembled and her breathing staggered as she fought to keep calm.

I spoke words of comfort to her as I held her hand. Bella was at breaking her point and there was nothing I could so but make sure she knew I was there for her. To make her aware that she wasn't alone, and that she had people around her that cared. There were no definitive black and white answers to be found. Those who could provide them were long dead. There were merely questions marks hanging over our heads with answers that seemed plausible but that we'd never know for certain if they were correct. But in my line of work, I'd come to be okay with that. The paranormal isn't always tangible and is very rarely absolute.

The sky was a mess of colour as the sun dipped below the tops of the trees, and crickets had began their nocturnal song as we exited the car and walked up the path to the house. Bella's hand was enfolded in mine and she was always a step behind, her shoulders hunched and her head bowed. She was every little bit a woman lost.

I opened the door and ushered her inside, leading her to the couch. She gasped and clenched my hand as I went to move away, "No!" she yelled. "Don't leave me."

"I'm just going to get you a glass of water. It'll help you feel better. I'll be right back." Her muscles relaxed and she acquiesced, letting my hand slip from hers.

I intended to be quick in the kitchen, but as I stood in front of the sink with the water gushing from the faucet, its coolness overflowing the side of the glass onto my skin, I went over the day again in my mind. Jared's piecemeal approach to sharing what he knew, while giving us some answers, seemed to have the effect of one step forward, two steps back.

Without there being someone who was physically there, who witnessed Bella's mother on the reservation, and who could confirm what Jared was saying, everything we knew was really nothing more than a series of assumptions cast as plausible theories.

Neither Charlie or Mavis were likely to be of any more help, they'd divulged all they knew. Jared, I wasn't so sure about, given his proclivity to withhold pertinent information from all concerned. But following today's events, I didn't need for him to tell me to know he wouldn't speak again. It was obvious.

There was one possibility in Bella's friend Alice. Despite her inherent disconnect to the house and Bella's childhood, with her psychometric abilities what she had seen thus far had been helpful. The key had given Alice visions of a woman we now knew to be Elizabeth. With the letters, the piano, and the chest, it was possible that any one or all of these objects could be a conduit to providing answers.

Water began to puddle onto the counter, dishes left in the sink having clogged the plug. "Shit," I muttered as I rushed to remove the plates and sponge, and wipe down the bench. I stacked the dishes in the drainer beside the sink, and hung the towel over the oven handle. I was pouring Bella another glass of water when I heard I muted thud in the living room.

"Bella, everything okay in there? It sounded like something fell over."

"Everything's fine. Just peachy." She replied, sounding sardonic and defiant.

Something wasn't right.

I dropped the glass and ran back to the living room, not looking back when I heard it shatter on the floor. Bella was sitting on the couch where I left here, one leg crossed over the other, casually swinging back and forth. Her skin appeared a more vibrant pink since I last saw it, almost as though she had make-up on.

"I thought you were getting me a drink, Edward, yet you return empty-handed. Tsk tsk." She shook her head, her eyes large and innocently playful, but there was an undefinable gleam in them that was unsettling.

"You know, it's rude to stare," she said, her voice that of a little girl. "You're making me nervous Edward. Is something wrong?" She beckoned, patting the seat beside her.

I tensed at hearing the voice again, fear and dread making me feel uneasy. "Why are you speaking like that, what's wrong with your voice?"

"What are you talking about? There's nothing wrong with my voice. I'm just plain ol' Bella. See? Nothing's different." She held out her hand and grabbed onto mine before I could step back, pulling me down to the couch with a force that sent a pain shooting up my arm.

Before I could move, she settled herself over my lap, running her fingers along the collar of my shirt and down my chest.

"B-Bella, what are you doing? Stop." I grabbed at her hands and tried to pin them to her sides, but with a lascivious smirk she shook her head and rocked forward over me, bringing her hand up into my hair, running her fingers through it.

"Edwaaaaaarrrrd," she purred, dragging the syllables out as though she were drunk. "Tell me you want me, tell me you need me."

My body defied my mind as I battled feelings of desire. Since I woke up in her bed alone, I had wanted her. I wanted her to want me, but not like this. Not like some deranged woman, desperate and unhinged.

"Aren't you going to touch me, Edward? Feel me, I know you want to. Here," she said, lifting my hand and molding it over her breast, pushing it so hard my skin was slowly turning white as the blood drained away.

"Bella, stop. Just stop. This isn't you, you don't need to do this for my attention. You already have it - me. Just -" I sucked in a breath and she started moving my hand down her stomach, drifting over her hips until I was cupping her between her legs. She pushed my palm harder against her, moaning loudly as she did.

"I told you you wanted this, now harder Edward. Use your fingers," she growled, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as it lolled on her neck like a dashboard figurine. Keening noises erupted from her, as her body jutted forward in a convex shape, her breasts thrust in my face.

Aware of how fragile Bella continued to be, there was no easy way to deny her her wants without further upsetting her. She'd already been through too much.

I grappled with my internal desires. Would giving in to her be wrong? I berated myself for even thinking such a thing. I'd taken it upon myself to be her protector of sorts. How could I possibly maintain that title if I was even considering letting her ruin herself in this way? There was no way she'd want this if she was in her right frame of mind. But saying no to her only served to further exacerbate whatever turmoil she was enduring.

"Edward, why don't you want me?" Bella glanced up at me, her hair obscuring her eyes, sounding once again like the innocent little girl from before. "All this time, you've been telling me how much you want me, need me, but when I'm finally ready, you don't want me." She cast her face downward.

"Bella, it's not that at all. I don't think you're quite yourself right now. You've been through so much and..."

"Don't tell me what I've been through - I was there remember? I know what I want, and I want this," she growled, looking at me once more and palming me through my pants. She ran her index finger up and down the fly of my jeans, tempting my control. "And I can feel that you want me too. I know you want to come out and play, Eddie." She crooked her finger at me and pulled me closer by the collar of my shirt before smashing her mouth against mine.

Where all of our previous kisses were gentle but desirous, this was engulfing and near violent. Her lips suctioned mine, biting and chewing as she moaned in an almost animalistic way.

Pushing her back was fruitless as the strength she exhibited was unlike anything I had seen before. Her legs were clamped around my hips, grinding me into the couch, rendering me unable to move.

Everything about this was wrong. My mind knew that, but my body hadn't caught on. Before I could think of the best way to handle this, I felt Bella's hand unzip my jeans, slip inside and pull me out. She wrapped her hand around me, and ran her palm over the head, licking her lips when she felt the evidence of my unwanted arousal.

"See, you do want me. And I want you. We're two consenting adults who want each other. Now where's the harm in that?" Her eyes bore into mine, glaring with a fierce depth to them I hadn't seen before. Her pupils bled into her irises, making it appear she was in the clasps of a psychotic episode.

Words evaded me as Bella lifted her hips just enough to shift her panties to the side and lowered herself over me. But there was nothing slow and accommodating about this move. Much like her kiss, she dropped onto me in one swift move, moaning "Fuuuuuuuuuuuck," before beginning an unrelenting and frenzied thrust of her hips into mine.

"Oh god. Fuck. No, no, no. Stop," I grunted, my eyes rolling to the back of my head as she swiveled, clenched, and arched around me. "Bella, stop it. God... you feel good, but this... this doesn't. Just stop." I reached for her hands, but she stopped all movement and glared at me.

"Do not tell me what to do! You will enjoy this, enjoy me. Take me. I want you to take me. Use me, Edward. Make me yours." Her moans continued becoming increasingly louder, and her movements more exaggerated. Each thrust was more powerful and uncontrolled than the last. I knew what was happening and I was completely unable to stop it, caught in a trance-like state as her eyes scrunched up and her body went stiff. Incoherent words spilled from her mouth as her body shook and convulsed from the effects of her orgasm.

I was stuck watching all this unfold in a body that wouldn't respond to the dilemma surrounding it. Everything within me wanted to grab Bella by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, to force her to see what she was doing. But instead I was locked into a stasis that seemed to have an unshakeable hold over every part of me but the one inside of Bella.

While my mind worked overtime, Bella's body fell limp and her shoulders dropped. After a few moments of strained quiet, she blinked quickly, taking stuttered breaths, then almost shyly asked, "What... what just hap-happened?"

I was at loss as to how to describe what had happened, but it didn't take more than a glance at how we were still joined together for everything to make some kind of sense. And with a gasp and very ungracious stumble, Bella removed herself from my lap and shuffled awkwardly to the corner of the room.

Her lips quivered and fat tears rolled down her face as she wrapped her arms around herself, unable to look at me. Incapacitating fear enveloped me as I guessed at her fears.

"God, no, Bella. I didn't. I don't know what happened, but it wasn't me. One minute you were in here and I was getting you a drink to calm you down, and the next there was a crash and I came in here, and then you..." I let the words drift off as she quirked her eyebrow once more.

"A crash you say?" She said in coy, playful tone. "Oh yes, I remember that," she said casting her glance toward the side table where a whiskey decanter lay in a broken mess of glass on the floor. "You like my handiwork, Eddie? I did it to get your attention. And well, it worked. You can't say fucking a living dead girl wasn't fun."

**...**

**This was a shorter chapter than I've previously written, and from here on out, they'll likely all be this long. Sadly I just don't have the time with work commitments to write longer chapters. I hope you all understand.**

**Your thoughts are always appreciated. More than anything, I love hearing of your reactions to each chapter. **

**Thank you all once again.**

**-Katie.**


	20. Someone Else's Shadow

**Hello and thank you for your enduring patience. I won't drag this out here but rather let you all get straight into the story. Before that though, I urge you, please, take a moment and read the previous chapter, though a complete re-read might also be a good idea.**

**Forgive any errors, this is not beta'd. **

**...**

**Someone Else's Shadow**

**Edward**

Stricken ill, I was unable to speak and barely able to breathe as a smirk grew on Bella's face, one that no longer appeared to belong to her but whatever, or rather whoever, now resided inside her.

"Nothing to say to that, hmm Edward? I fucked you senseless and speechless." With a satisfied sigh she... or whoever this really was, knelt on her knees, looked up at the ceiling and haughtily proclaimed, "It seems you were right all along, Elizabeth. I truly am a slut." Her words were defiant, but said with a perverse note of pride as though she had waited years for just the right moment to get this off her chest.

She looked back at me, her eyes no longer the rich brown that had beguiled and engulfed me the past few weeks, but now a colourless, fathomless lack of life looked back at me, leaving nothing but the physical body of the woman I had begun to care deeply for.

"Elizabeth always did say you and I were meant for each other, Edward," the voice purred as she crawled toward me. "She always said it to punish me and make me believe there was no one for me since you died before we could be together; and yet here you sit, frozen, in shock with your pants around your legs, freshly fucked and covered in me.

"Tell me Edward, was it good? Tell me you waited for me like I've waited for," she keened as she stalked closer, her hair falling around her face. Her back arched like a cheetah about to attack. Every movement, every sound heightened; there was nothing else in the world but this creature and my furiously beating heart.

"What have you done with Bella," I asked, my voice raspy and painful to use.

"She's still here, somewhere inside this body she's given me, but you don't need to worry about her anymore, sweet Edward. You have me now," she said as she sat at my feet and reached a hand up to brush a sweaty lock of hair from my forehead.

I recoiled back in fear, every molecule of my body on alert as her eyes took on a maniacal glare at my attempt to move away. "Uh uh uh, you don't want to do that. I'm not fun to be around when I'm upset. Elizabeth knew that all too well of course, and that just got her in all sorts of trouble," she said with a sickeningly sweet smile.

I swallowed nervously, thinking my only way out was to gain her trust by empathising with her, much like freed hostages do with their kidnappers. "I can't imagine what it must've been like," I managed, "to be hurt like that; the torment and the sadness."

She sat back on her ankles, looking beyond me, a vacant stare on her face. After a moment she said, "No, you can't Edward. She tortured me every day with the knowledge that I'd forever be alone because the person I was meant to be with – you, would never live, never draw breath. But she was wrong… you're here. You've come back to me." She cradled my face like you would a small child, stroking her fingers down my cheeks.

"Tell me you've come back for me, tell me I'm yours," she cooed, but with a detectable hint of menace.

"I…, " I choked on the words, unable to speak. No matter how much I wanted to appease her, to keep her calm, I couldn't say it. With blinding quickness, she grabbed a hold of my throat, seething madly, "Tell me how much you want me." Her nails clawed my skin, digging deeper the longer I held off my reply. "Tell me how much you've missed me," she came closer so that I could feel her breath mingling with my own. "Say 'Siobhan, I've come back so we can be together.'" I swallowed deeply and opened my mouth but before I could manage anything, I felt her lips on mine, covering them, violently sucking both between hers. Then she released my lip and bit on it before shoving me away from her with a look a disgust.

"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST SAY IT!" she yelled, foam forming at the crease of her mouth.

Frozen, I watched in horror feeling outside of myself as she screamed, the sound not unlike an uncontrollable baby. Her breathing became ragged and pupils dilated and then her eyes rolled back into her head, only the whites visible. Her head lolled to the side and then she slipped from my lap hitting the floor with a dull thud.

…

Dark.

So cold and dark.

Help me.

Don't let her take me.

Oh God, please help me.

…

My throat was burning and tight, and my legs had long gone weak from the pressure of Bella's thighs. I shuffled forward and then dropped off the couch, beside where Bella lay prostrate on the rug, her hair splayed out hiding her face from view.

Moving so I was alongside her, I could see her hair puffing out in front of her nose. Relief that she was breathing coursed through me.

I took in her body as I contemplated what to do next. Her shoulders were hunched and her fingers were clawing at broken angles in the rug, digging in as though she was hanging on for her very life.

Hesitant as to what I'd see and who I may be dealing with, I tucked her hair behind her ear and was shocked at the dark purple bruises swelling beneath her eyes. Her skin had taken on a sickly transparency. She shuddered a few shallow breaths, and I thought she may have been coming to.

Slowly but not without a struggle, her body a dead weight, I rolled her onto her side and manipulated her into a position that would be more comfortable for her prone form, her fingers finding grip on her clothes.

Her eyes opened, flickering as though they were irritated by a bright light even though the light in the living room was dimmed. She sniffled a little and released her stranglehold, white fingers slowly taking back their natural pink hue.

Cautiously, I reached out to touch her, trying desperately to offer any comfort I could, but as my hand connected with her body she instantly recoiled, folding her body in on itself like a concertina. Trembling, her eyes frantically searching the room unable to focus on any one thing, she grabbed at her hair, pulling it, almost ripping it from the scalp. Every movement was jerk-like, sudden, and I was terrified she would hurt herself.

Without giving much thought to the fact that my next movement may hurt me more than her, I quickly moved forward and pulled her into my arms, her knees bent awkwardly, one barely resting in my lap and the other on the rug. I held her tight, my arms acting as a ribcage protecting her fragile organs.

She jostled trying to free herself, slight whimpers turning into screeching cries for me to let her go as she began thrashing from side to side like a bull trying to dislodge its rider, but I held tight cupping my left hand with my right, my nails digging into the backs of the fingers. "I'm not letting you go Bella, I'm not. I'm going to get you through this," I said though I wasn't sure if this was more for my benefit or hers as her violent moans and cries were so loud, so raw, I was certain she wasn't cognizant enough to take it in.

"Let me go, let me go, let me go, STOP! NOOO!" she screamed, the centre of her throat hollowing from the exertion of sound. She clawed at my shirt, pulling the collar tight around my neck. Every violent action made it seem like this was Siobhan person, but I knew it wasn't. This was Bella. And she was desperately frightened, and in turn so was I.

I didn't know what to do. Nothing in my life had ever prepared for something remotely like this. Everything up to this point had been child's play in comparison, and I doubted there was any circumstance, any book or theoretical simulation that could prepare anyone for this.

Tears of frustration welled and without a clue about what to do, despair overwhelming me, I tightly held onto Bella fearing that there was nothing that could help either one us.

"Pl…. please," she blubbered, "you have to let me go." I roughly shook my head, my throat thick with tears, scared of what would happen if I did, but also knowing that I couldn't hold on to her forever.

Suddenly her movements calmed and she shuddered deeply, the reverberations of muscles as she exhaled rolling over my body like a receding wave. I held my breath, my heart was thundering in my ears, and my vision was splotchy.

She dislodged her hands that had been fisted between us, and I went to readjust my grip but as I briefly let go to stretch my quickly cramping hands, I was shoved back so forcefully I fell backward, my head hitting something hard. Immediately a sharp pain radiated from the base of my skull right down my body. I opened my eyes, my vision black at the edges, my fingers and toes tingling as though I'd be zapped.

My mind immediately went to Bella, and I attempted to sit up but the room was spinning and it felt like there was a pendulum in my head banging from side to side.

I struggled to stand grasping the table behind me whose sharp edge had likely given me a slight concussion. I stumbled a few steps to the wall and held onto it as the room slowly began to come back into focus. Looking around, I couldn't see Bella anywhere and there was no sign as to where she'd gone. The front door was shut and it didn't look like she might've left but as I went to check the driveway just in case, I heard a muffled sob come from somewhere behind me.

I turned around too fast and a throbbing pain ripped through me; I cried out and brought my hand to the back of my head and held it there, the gentle pressure feeling as though I was holding my head in place.

Inhaling a deep breath through my nose, I slowly let it out through clenched teeth, and then inhaled again, thinking only of the rhythm of my breaths to keep the pain from my mind.

Listening for that sound again so I could place where I might find Bella, I moved to the bottom of the stairs so I'd be in a better position to hear more of the house, and then I heard it again. This time louder and mixed with something else: a soft banging kind of sound.

It was coming from somewhere upstairs.

**...**

**I wish I could put forward an excuse that might mollify the embarrassingly long wait that occurred between the last chapter and this one, but I doubt I have any more of a justifiable reason that anyone else that writes fan fiction. Honestly, I got writer's block but rather than try and overcome it, I put the story aside waiting for the block to work its way out naturally. Of course, it doesn't work like that and the longer you put off writing, the harder it is to get back into it. **

**So in light of that, I do hope that what you've just read is satisfactory. I apologise for its short length but figured a short chapter is better than no chapter.**

**In order to keep some kind of momentum flowing, chapters will remain short from here on out and I estimate there's 3-4 left. So I do hope you stay with me to see out the end.**

**Reviews, if you're so inclined, I would love to read them. **

**Thank you, truly.**

**Kat.**


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